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CROMWELL'S    OWN 

A  Story  of  the   Great   Civil  War 
By    ARTHUR    PATERSON 

Author  of  ^^  The  Gospel  Writ  in  SteeV 
^^For    Freedom^ s    Sake'^^    etc,^   etc. 


NEW     YOEK     AND      LONDON 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS   PUBLISHERS 

1899 


Copyright,  1S99,  by  IIarpek  &  Beothkbs. 

All  rights  reserved. 


//^^?  / 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 


CHAPTER  I 


A  CLOSE,  sultry  evening  in  June,  1640.  The  day 
had  been  cloudy  and  threatening,  the  sun  had  set 
in  fiery  splendour,  and  the  weather-wise  predicted  rain. 
But  the  farmers  who  knew  best  and  needed  the  rain  most, 
shook  their  heads  gloomily,  and  said  it  would  not  come 
yet,  and  when  it  did  would  be  a  deluge,  and  do  more 
harm  than  good. 

In  the  court  of  Sidney  Sussex  College,  Cambridge,  the 
bees  hummed  drowsily,  heavily  laden  and  homeward 
bound.  The  master  was  fond  of  flowers,  and  from  the 
trim  beds,  arranged  in  exact  order  among  the  rows  of 
poplars  which  bordered  the  college  lawns  from  gate  to 
lodge,  stole  the  scent  of  roses,  wallflowers,  and  mignon- 
ette, filling  with  their  sweet  fragrance  the  students' 
studies  and  chambers  above. 

"  Sidney  "  of  that  day  was,  in  outward  appearance,  very 
different  from  "  Sidney "  of  this.  Now  we  only  see  a 
building  which,  though  fine  in  outline  and  conception,  is 
of  a  cold  grey,  smooth  and  uninteresting  as  the  stone- 
work of  a  modern  cathedral.  In  those  days  it  was  in  all 
the  glory  of  a  mellowed  red  brick,  rich  and  deep  in  col- 
ouring and  tone.     The  restorer's  work  had  not  begun. 

Sidney  held  at  that  time  120  students.  Space  was  lim- 
ited, and  four  men  slept  in  one  room  —  generally  about 
twelve  feet  square;  and  though  each  undergraduate  had 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  separate  study  in  communication  with  the  common 
sleeping  chamber,  it  was  seldom  more  than  six  feet  by 
five,  sometimes  less.  Here  the  student  sported  his  oak 
and  worked,  when  he  had  an  inclination,  which  was  even 
less  often  than  his  descendent  of  to-day. 

In  one  of  these  studies  this  evening,  at  about  seven  of 
the  clock  —  that  is,  an  hour  after  supper  —  an  under- 
graduate was  sitting  alone,  his  face  in  his  hands,  staring 
at  the  wall.  He  had  some  writing-paper  before  him,  and 
a  quill  pen,  which  he  had  dipped  into  the  ink  three  times. 
But  he  had  written  nothing;  he  only  bit  the  end  of  the 
pen  with  a  determined  savage  crunch,  and  stared  at  the 
wall. 

He  was  a  lad  of  seventeen,  and  had  been  in  residence 
twelve  months,  so  young  did  our  ancestors  begin  their 
'Varsity  course  in  the  seventeenth  century,  A  spare, 
well-knit  figure,  muscular  of  limb,  though  not  broad 
enough  yet  for  its  height  of  six  feet.  His  head  was 
square,  with  a  short  chin,  a  delicately-shaped  nose  wide  at 
the  nostrils,  and  bright  brown  eyes.  It  was  a  handsome 
face,  full  of  force,  vitality,  and  expression,  but  it  had  seri- 
ous faults.  There  was  passion  and  self-will  in  the  tightly- 
drawn  under  lip,  a  twist  and  wrinkle  between  the  brows 
which  did  not  speak  well  for  patience  or  temper  —  the 
face  of  one  who  from  youth  to  age  would  strive  for  what 
he  wanted,  and  say  what  he  thought  fit,  though  the  whole 
world  forbade  him ;  a  nature  which  only  the  battle  of  life, 
if  that  were  hard  enough,  would  tame.  His  taste  in  dress 
was  simple,  but  his  clothes  were  fashionably  cut  —  doub- 
let and  hose  of  claret-coloured  silk,  loose  sleeves  slashed 
with  satin,  and  a  collar  of  point  lace.  There  were  no  tas- 
sels on  sword-sash  or  garters,  no  jewels  on  his  shoe- 
buckles,  not  even  a  ring  on  his  finger.  His  hair  fell  to 
his  shoulders,  but  was  too  curly  for  elegance,  and  just 
now  looked  like  a  rumpled  mane,  and  added  to  the  pale- 
ness of  his  face.  His  cap  and  gown  hung  in  a  closet 
behind  the  door.     They  were  seldom  worn. 

2 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"What  can  I  say?  How  can  I  write  it  down?"  he 
cried  aloud,  dashing  his  pen  on  the  table  with  a  splutter, 
and  making  two  more  blots.  "  It  will  nigh  kill  him  with 
grief.  If  I'd  but  told  him  last  home-coming,  when  there 
was  only  fifty  pounds  to  pay!  He  would  have  grieved  — 
grieved  sore,  and  spent  a  night,  maybe,  in  prayer,  dear 
heart!  But  then  it  would  have  been  over.  I  would  have 
sworn  never  to  play  again,  and  kept  my  word.  I  have 
always  done  that  at  least.  I  would  have  worked  heart 
and  soul  this  term  to  make  up  for  lost  time,  and  even 
pleased  Master  Ward  and  made  him  smile,  if  a  tutor  ever 
smiles.     Now!     Oh,  I  cannot  tell  him!  " 

He  writhed  in  his  chair,  and  bit  his  nails  to  the  quick. 
"  Why  did  I  do  it?  I  never  cared  overmuch.  I  dis- 
liked all  I  met  but  Charlton.  Yet  night  after  night  I 
played  with  them  because  —  because  he  played.  And 
losing,  I  played  on  to  win  the  money  back.  Fool !  spend- 
thrift! liar!  thief!  I  am  that,  naught  less,  and  I  will  tell 
the  dear  dad  so  and  the  master;  then  skulk  away  discred- 
ited and  beggared,  and  list  as  a  common  soldier  over 
seas.     I  will!     God's  life  I  will." 

He  brought  his  clenched  fist  down  upon  the  table  with 
a  bang  that  made  the  ink-pot  dance,  and  sent  the  paper 
flying.  Then  he  looked  round  with  a  conscious  start, 
for  he  heard  a  step  in  the  doorway.  A  man  stood  there 
looking  at  him.  The  blood  rushed  back  to  the  pale  face, 
and  the  brows  drew  together. 

"  Curse  you,  Charlton,  you  have  played  spy  upon  me, 
I'll  tell  you  this  much,  then,  you  are  a  worse  devil  than  I 
by  twenty  times." 

The  visitor  shrugged  his  shoulders  with  a  cynical  smile. 

"  Gadzooks,  dear  boy,  that's  true.  But  what  ails  you? 
Faith!  you  look  bitter  as  sour  wine.     What  is  wrong? " 

He  lounged  into  the  tiny  room,  past  its  indignant 
tenant,  and  sat  down  leisurely  upon  the  table. 

A  large,  fair  man,  with  regular  features,  inclined  to 
coarseness,  and  merry  blue  eyes.     He  was  dressed  in  the 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

extreme  of  fashion.  The  buckles  of  his  shoes  were  set 
with  precious  stones;  his  stockings  were  of  the  finest  silk, 
matching  his  doublet  of  grey  satin,  edged  with  silver 
braid.  There  were  jewels  upon  his  rapier  hilt  and  dag- 
ger, and  the  sash  which  carried  his  sword  was  of  scarlet, 
worked  with  golden  thread.  He  wore  a  castor  and 
feather  instead  of  the  college  cap,  and  in  place  of  his 
gown  a  short  cloak,  lined  with  silk,  flung  over  his  left 
shoulder. 

Viscount  Charlton  was  the  richest  young  nobleman  at 
the  university,  and  was  one  of  those  men  whose  most 
serious  occupation  in  life  was  the  procuring  of  every 
pleasure  that  money  could  buy.  A  bad  friend  for  the 
son  of  a  poor  gentleman,  with  an  income  of  five  hundred 
pounds  a  year. 

"  Ralph  Dangerfield,"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  authority, 
"  you  are  in  trouble.  Sit  ye  down  and  give  me  the  news 
of  it."  His  smile  had  vanished.  The  full,  sensual  lips 
were  closed  and  firm,  the  eyes  sympathetic  and  tender. 
He  stretched  out  a  heavy  hand  and  laid  it  on  his  com- 
panion's shoulder.  "Do  ye  hear  me,  man?  Sit  down 
and  tell  this  devil,  as  you  call  him,  that  is  worse  than  you, 
and  knows  it,  by  gad,  but  who  loves  you  very  dear,  what 
has  gone  amiss  to-day." 

Their  eyes  met,  and  Ralph  sat  down  and  heaved  a  bit- 
ter sigh. 

"Tell  you?  What  good  lies  in  that?  You  know  it 
already.  I  owe  money  I  cannot  pay ;  I  have  dishonoured 
my  father's  name;  I  am  ruined  for  life." 

Lord  Charlton  looked  relieved. 

"That  all?     A  devil  take  me,  man.     I  thought 

Well,  never  mind.  But  this?  Psha,  what  are  your 
debts?  Five  hundred  pound  or  so.  A  flea-bite.  Your 
father,  if  he  begins  by  being  angered  at  you,  will  end  by 
blaming  himself  for  keeping  a  lad  of  spirit  on  such  short 
allowance." 

But  Dangerfield  stopped  him. 

4 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  My  lord,  I  beg  your  silence;  you  intend  well,  but  your 
talk  is  foolish.  You  do  not  know  my  father.  Angered 
with  me?  God  is  my  witness,  I'd  desire  nothing  better. 
But  he  is  never  angry,  just  the  gentlest,  sweetest-natured 
man  that  lives.  He  will  not  say  one  reproachful  word; 
he  will  pay  the  money  to  a  penny,  then  go  away  to  mourn 
over  it  alone,  and  when  I  am  absent  starve  and  pinch 
himself  and  live  on  crusts  to  save  what  I  have  squan- 
dered. Charlton,  I  am  a  villain,  and  you  have  made  me 
one.     But,  God  knows,  I  don't  excuse  myself." 

He  picked  up  the  paper  from  the  floor,  took  his  pen 
again,  and  settled  down  to  write. 

"  That  to  your  father?  "  Charlton  said,  a  curious  look 
of  uneasiness  in  his  eyes. 

"  Aye,  it  is,"  was  the  sharp  answer. 

"  Is  he  in  London?" 

"That  is  where  he  lives,  and  where  I  was  born,  as  I 
have  told  you  oftentimes ; "  and  Ralph,  scowling,  began 
his  letter  in  earnest.  Charlton  watched  him,  rubbing  his 
chin  and  playing  with  his  rapier  in  a  nervous,  abstracted 
manner,  which  Ralph  would  have  remarked  at  another 
time,  for  his  lordship  was  not  a  nervous  man.  But  Ralph 
saw  nothing,  nor,  in  his  preoccupation  of  mind,  did  he 
remember  how  strange  a  thing  it  was  for  Charlton  to  be 
anywhere  at  that  time  of  an  evening  outside  of  "  The 
Three  Tuns." 

For  some  minutes  Ralph's  pen  scratched  busily.  Then 
Charlton  asked  a  sudden  question. 

"  What  is  your  father's  Christian  name?  " 

"  John." 

"My  God!" 

The  words  were  spoken  as  though  he  had  been  stabbed, 
and  Ralph's  pen  dropped  from  his  hand. 

"  A  strange  chance  indeed,"  and  his  lordship  began  to 
whistle  —  very  much  out  of  tune ;  "  naught  but  a  mere 
coincidence." 

"  What  have  you  in  your  mind?  " 

5 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

They  had  changed  places.  Ralph  was  in  authority 
now. 

"  Tell  me,  man,"  he  added  impatiently. 

His  lordship  yawned.  "  Time  enough  when  your 
work  is  done.  'Tis  but  a  snip  of  news  —  no  concern  to 
you.  There  are  many  Dangerfields,  I  suppose,  in 
England." 

"  None  beside  my  father  and  myself.  The  family  has 
died  out  elsewhere.     Well?  " 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Ralph's  servant 
entered,  saluted  my  lord,  and  handed  his  master  a  letter. 

"  A  groom  awaits  your  answer,  sir." 

"What  groom?" 

"  I  do  not  know  him,  but  he's  in  the  doctor's  livery. 
He's  rid  from  London."  The  words  came  jerkily,  and 
the  man's  hand  trembled  so  that  he  dropped  the  letter 
before  Ralph  could  take  it. 

Ralph  frowned  at  him. 

"  Barnaby,  you've  been  drinking  again.  I  will  not 
have  this." 

The  man  turned  away  without  answer,  and  covered 
his  eyes  with  his  hand.  Ralph  was  about  to  question 
him  when  Charlton  cried  out,  his  face  as  white  as  the 
servant's : — 

"  Open  and  read  —  quick!     He  is  not  drunk.  " 

It  was  a  very  short  note: — 

"  Ralph, —  There  is  trouble.  Take  horse  and  ride  to  my 
house.     Ask  no  questions.     But  haste  —  haste! 

"  Sydney  Taunton." 

Ralph  read  the  note  twice  with  drawn  lips,  then 
handed  it  to  Charlton. 

"  If  you  know  what  that  m^eans  tell  me."  Then  to  his 
servant,  "  I'll  bear  the  answer  myself.  See  that  the  mes- 
senger be  well  refreshed." 

As  the  door  closed  behind  the  man  Ralph  sprang  from 
his  chair  and  grasped  Lord  Charlton's  arm  in  feverish 
impatience 

6 


CROAl WELL'S  OWN 

"Now  —  what  can  it  be?  Taunton  is  my  father's 
oldest  friend." 

There  was  no  reply.  His  lordship  had  turned  his  back, 
and  was  studying  the  letter  intently.  Ralph,  after  a 
quick  glance  at  him,  went  into  the  sleeping-chamber  and 
hastily  put  on  his  riding-boots,  a  doublet  of  thick  cloth, 
buckled  his  sword,  and  drew  on  his  gloves. 

Then  he  called  out: — 

"  Charlton,  wilt  lend  me  your  best  horse?  I  will  be 
careful  of  him." 

No  answer  still. 

Ralph  came  back  into  the  study,  laid  his  hand  upon 
the  letter,  and  said  roughly: — 

"  I  can  wait  no  longer.  Give  me  this  an'  I  will  hire  a 
hack  as  you  will  not  oblige  me." 

But  Charlton  turned  with  a  heavy  oath,  and  then  Ralph 
saw  that  there  were  tears  in  his  eyes. 

"  Curse  you  and  your  hack!  The  horse!  Take  him  — 
take  twenty.  Oh,  if  I  were  but  of  full  age  and  at  Court! 
Curse  those  bishops!  They  be  cruel  as  death  and  as 
merciless,  and  my  reverend  godfather  be  the  worst  of 
them  all." 

Ralph's  grip  upon  his  friend's  shoulder  tightened,  but 
he  spoke  quietly  still. 

"  Before  I  go  you  will  tell  me  what  you  mean." 

His  lordship  considered  a  moment,  then  turned  away. 

"  No;  there  may  be  a  mistake.     Come  to  the  stables." 

He  would  have  left  the  room,  but  Ralph  stepped  before 
him. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  gasped,  "  for  God's  sake!  " 

They  looked  into  one  another's  eyes,  down  into  one 
another's  soul,  and  read  what  was  written  here.  Charl- 
ton yielded. 

"  Well,  then,  I  am  godson,  you  may  know,  to  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury;  the  worst  he  has,  but  no  mat- 
ter. I  gave  some  money  the  other  day  for  one  of  his 
favourite  churches,  and  this  so  pleased  His  Grace  that  he 

7 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

writ  an  acknowledgment  with  his  own  hand.     This  came 
to-day,  and  in  it  are  these  words." 

Lord  Charlton  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket  and  read 
aloud  from  it: — 

"  I  am  weary  after  many  hours  of  labour,  but  it  was  the  work 
of  the  Lord.  A  Socinian  book,  the  most  damnable  I  have  yet 
seen,  full  of  infinite  blasphemy  and  vilest  heresy,  hath  been  writ- 
ten by  one  John  Dangerfield.  This  wretch  was  tried  to-day  by 
the  Star  Chamber,  and  a  severe  and  most  righteous  sentence 
delivered  upon  him." 

"  There,"  Charlton  said  looking  up,  "  that  is  all  I 
know.     What  make  you  of  it?  " 

Ralph  laughed  a  hard,  bitter  laugh. 

"  I  was  wrong,  you  right.  This  is  some  unknown 
namesake.  My  father  deny  the  Godhead  of  Christ! 
Even  the  Star  Chamber,  which  they  do  say  will  swear 
that  white  is  black,  could  not  make  that  good.  Taun- 
ton's letter  means  a  sudden  sickness.  Father  was  never 
strong.     You  have  my  thanks.     Now  for  the  horse." 

It  is  fifty  miles  from  Cambridge  to  London  as  the 
crow  flies,  sixty  by  road  and  the  roads  of  those  days  were 
bad ;  but  Ralph  was  a  superb  rider,  and  upon  a  beast  that 
would  go  at  its  best  without  whip  or  spur  until  it  dropped 
from  exhaustion.  He  left  Cambridge  at  nine  o'clock; 
by  five  the  next  morning  he  was  clattering  over  the  ill- 
paved  thoroughfares  of  Westminster.  Doctor  Taunton 
lived  near  the  abbey  in  a  red-brick  Elizabethan  house, 
shut  in  from  the  clang  of  the  busy  world  by  a  large  gar- 
den and  high  walls.  A  groom  was  waiting  to  take 
Ralph's  horse,  and  a  maidservant,  evidently  on  the  look- 
out, ushered  him  at  once  into  the  doctor's  surgery,  and 
said  that  her  master  would  be  with  him  in  a  few  minutes. 

A  sombre  room,  malodorous  with  the  fumes  of  stale 
chemicals;  close  from  want  of  air.  It  was  panelled  from 
floor  to  ceiling  with  black  oak,  and  there  being  but  one 
small  window,  seemed  dark  as  a  tomb  to  those  coming  in 
from  the  daylight.     The  window,  however,  faced  east, 

8 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  to-day  a  fugitive  ray  of  sun  had  struck  a  shaft  of  light 
through  the  diamond  panes  upon  a  niche  in  the  opposite 
wall,  where  stood  an  ebony  crucifix,  the  Christ  of  marble 
carved  by  a  master  hand.  To  Ralph,  in  the  overstrung 
state  of  his  nerves,  a  horrible  realism  seemed  to  cling  to 
this  figure.  The  sunlight  warmed  the  cold  marble  into  a 
likeness  of  human  flesh ;  he  could  have  imagined  he  saw 
it  move.  The  face  was  turned  towards  him,  calm,  yet 
terrible  in  its  expression  of  divine  patience  under  mortal 
agony.  He  turned  away  with  a  shudder,  and  strode  to 
the  window:  but  he  could  feel  the  face  behind  him  still. 
Was  it  an  omen?  He  had  laughed  at  Charlton's  news; 
but  it  had  been  with  his  lips,  not  with  his  heart.  No  man 
could  tell  at  that  time  whom  the  Star  Chamber  might 
seize  for  its  next  victim.  The  power  of  the  bishops,  so 
soon  to  sink  to  nothingness,  was  at  its  height.  Spies 
of  the  most  infamous  kind  abounded,  ready  to  catch  at 
any  straw  of  worthless  evidence  to  earn  reward  and  coun- 
tenance from  the  archbishop.  And  Laud,  though  him- 
self anxious  to  be  just  —  a  better  man  than  his  enemies 
knew  —  was  credulous  and  cruel  where  heresy  was  whis- 
pered in  his  ear. 

"  Merciful  God!  "  Ralph  exclaimed  aloud.  "  If  it  were 
true  —  but  it  cannot  be." 

A  hand  touched  his,  a  bony  chilly  hand.  He  started 
violently,  and  turned  to  find  the  doctor  at  his  elbow. 

"  Oh,  is  it  you,  sir?  "  he  began  apologetically.  "  I  did 
not  hear  your  step "  but  the  doctor  cut  him  short. 

"  You  rode  fast.  I  expected  you  later.  Nay,  no  words 
now  —  no  questions  —  until  your  breakfast  comes.  It 
will  be  ready  soon." 

He  sat  down  and  made  Ralph  do  the  same,  then  cross- 
ing one  leg  over  the  other,  and  clasping  his  hands  over 
that,  peered  at  him  like  an  inquisitive  bird.  Doctor 
Sydney  Taunton  was  not  unlike  a  bird.  He  was  a  little 
shrivelled  old  man,  with  a  withered,  wrinkled  face.  His 
head  was  round  and  perfectly  bald,  set  like  an  apple 

9 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

between  narrow,  high  shoulders;  his  nose  was  long  and 
pointed;  his  lips  thin  and  drawn  inwards,  for  he  had  no 
teeth;  his  chin  was  pointed,  too,  and  nearly  as  prominent 
as  his  nose.  It  was  a  keen,  clever  face,  but  not  an  ami-v 
able  one.  He  had  black  eyes,  very  round  and  bright  — 
quick,  vigilant  eyes  that  saw  much  and  told  nothing. 
At  this  moment  they  were  devouring  Ralph  from  spurs 
to  love-locks;  but  the  doctor  did  not  speak,  and  only 
waved  his  hand  impatiently  when  Ralph  tried  to  do  so  — 
a  most  irritating  man.  At  last  the  maid  arrived  with  a 
breakfast  of  meat  and  wheat  cakes  steaming  hot  and  a 
tankard  of  ale. 

"  Eat,"  the  doctor  cried,  darting  from  his  chair  and 
trotting  to  one  of  the  many  cabinets  filled  with  bottles. 
"  Here,  drink  this  first.  Drink,  I  say,"  and  he  handed 
Ralph  a  glass  of  cognac. 

Ralph  drank  it  at  a  draught,  then  attacked  his  break- 
fast with  a  determination.  He  was  not  hungry,  but  he 
knew  his  man.  No  one  who  refused  Doctor  Taunton's 
prescriptions  ever  gained  anything  by  it. 

"  There,  sir,"  he  cried,  laying  down  the  empty  tankard 
with  relief.     "  Now  your  news." 

"What  have  you  heard?"  was  all  the  doctor  said. 

"  Nothing  —  concerning  my  father." 

"  Touching  whom,  then?  " 

"  I  was  told  yesternight  that  someone  of  our  name  was 
tried  by  the  Star  Chamber,  but " 

"  The  Star  Chamber!  "  interjected  the  doctor.  "  What 
of  the  Star  Chamber?  " 

"  They  sentenced  some  Dangerfield  for  —  for  Socin- 
ianism.     But  what  of  it?     'Tis  no  concern  of  mine." 

Doctor  Taunton's  head  twitched  and  his  eyelids  quiv- 
ered. He  bent  forward  until  his  face  was  within  a  foot 
of  Ralph's,  and  whispered:  — 

"  Why,  lad,  why?  Who  told  you  it  was  no  concern 
of  yours?  " 

Ralph's  heart  seemed  as  though  it  would  burst.     He 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

would  have  given  the  world  to  cry  out,  but  the  doctor's 
eyes  were  upon  him,  and  he  felt  as  if  he  were  under  a 
spell.  Beads  of  perspiration  stood  upon  his  brow,  and 
he  could  not  say  a  word  for  a  minute.  At  last  he  mut- 
tered hoarsely:  — 

"  Speak  not  in  riddles;  tell  me  the  worst.  What!  God 
have  mercy!     That  man  is  my  father!" 

Taunton  nodded,  and  again  there  was  silence.  When 
Ralph  broke  it  his  voice  was  steady  but  very  cold. 

"  The  punishment  —  what  is  it  to  be?  " 

"A  heavy  fine  —  five  thousand  pounds." 

"What  else?" 

"  The  pillory." 

"What  else?" 

Taunton's  lips  closed  like  a  trap. 

"  No  more,  I  understand." 

Ralph  observed  him  a  moment. 

"  That  is  not  true.     What  else?  " 

A  pause.     Ralph  repeated  his  question  sharply. 

"  Mutilation." 

"And  —  what  else?" 

The  words  were  hissed  now  from  between  his  teeth. 

"  Naught;  I  swear  it  before  God." 

Another  silence,  then  Ralph  slowly  and  deliberately 
drew  his  sword. 

"  Doctor,  you  are  my  oldest  friend,  the  dearest  my 
father  hath.  You  are  a  Catholic,  but  you  are  a  Chris- 
tian. Listen  then  to  me.  I  swear  to  you  on  my  sword 
by  God  the  Father,  God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy 
Ghost,  that  I  will  take  no  more  pleasures  in  this  world, 
but  will  labour  heart  and  soul  and  hand  to  compass  the 
undoing  of  that  damned  tribunal;  aye,  from  the  meanest 
member  of  it  to  the  king  himself.  I  swear  it  by  all  I 
hold  sacred  in  the  world  —  so  help  me  God!  " 

He  sheathed  his  sword  at  the  last  words,  sat  down 
quietly,  and  for  a  space  there  was  no  sound  but  the 
breathing  of  two  men.     Presently  Ralph  looked  up. 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"When  was  it?" 

"  This  morning  at  rise  of  sun." 

"  Then  it  is  not  ended  yet."  Ralph  sprang  to  his  feet. 
Taunton  went  swiftly  before  him  to  the  door,  locked  it, 
and  thrust  the  key  in  his  doublet. 

"  Hold,  son.     Thou  must  not  leave  this  room." 

"Must  not — must  not  go  to  my  father!  God's  life, 
sir,  let  me  pass!  Out  with  that  key,  or  I  will  burst  the 
door!" 

The  doctor  peered  at  him,  groaned,  then  slowly 
opened  it. 

"  Wait  till  I  get  my  cloak,"  was  all  he  said,  bustling 
into  the  hall. 

Ralph  stared,  and  the  doctor  chuckled  grimly  as  he 
took  his  arm. 

"  Sooth,  my  young  friend,  I'd  not  trust  thee  alone  in 
Palace  Yard  this  day  with  that  sword;  no,  not  for  a 
king's  ransom.     We  go  together;  come." 


CHAPTER  II 

A  SURGING  crowd  of  people,  numbering  many 
hundreds,  clustering  round  a  wooden  platform, 
where  three  men  stood,  cramped  and  confined  between 
heavy  beams,  sweltering  bareheaded  under  the  summer 
sun.  As  a  background  the  rugged  walls  of  Westmin- 
ster Palace.  They  were  well  used  to  such  scenes,  these 
old  walls.  Yet  there  was  a  difference  in  the  spectacle 
to-day  from  most  if  its  predecessors.  The  crowds  about 
tlie  sufferers  were  usually  the  scourings  from  the  slums, 
creatures  who  flocked  with  stores  of  missiles  in  their 
pouches,  too  filthy  to  mention,  to  pelt  the  unhappy  vic- 
tims, and  jeer  at  their  pain.  To-day,  though  there  were 
a  few  such  persons,  prudence  forbade  the  least  expres- 
sion of  their  natural  sentiments.  The  bulk  of  the  crowd 
was  composed  of  grave  citizens  and  their  sharp-faced 
'prentices;  sturdy  artisans,  and  bronzed  sailors  from  the 
wharves;  while  here  and  there  a  portly  city  father,  pro- 
tected by  a  body-guard  of  serving-men,  lent  a  gravity  and 
importance  to  the  gathering  which  those  in  authority 
did  not  fail  to  note.  Indeed,  the  officers  charged  with 
the  conduct  of  affairs  did  not  at  all  like  the  look  of  things, 
and  doubled  the  guard  of  halberdiers  about  the  pillories. 
Well  for  them  that  this  had  been  done,  for  when  the 
executioner  came  to  do  his  work  a  shout  of  anger,  deep 
and  ominous,  swept  the  crowd  from  end  to  end,  threats 
were  delivered,  and  swords  drawn.  But  the  halberdiers 
held  manfully  to  their  weapons,  and  no  blood  was  spilt. 
This  was  before  Ralph  arrived  upon  the  scene.  As  an 
additional  hardship  the  usual  order  of  punishments  — 
two    hours    in    pillory,    followed    by    mutilation  —  was 

13 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

reversed,  and  the  sufferers,  with  some  rough-and-ready 
stanching  of  their  wounds,  were  obHged  to  do  their 
penance  after  they  had  lost  their  ears.  They  were  per- 
sons of  no  influence  and  httle  known.  Two  were  min- 
isters, a  Brownist  and  an  Independent;  and  the  third, 
condemned  as  a  Socinian,  had  not  a  friendly  face  to  look 
upon.  These  facts  made  the  demonstrations  of  the 
crowd  very  significant,  and  bore  witness  to  the  popular 
hatred  of  the  prelates  and  the  Star  Chamber.  The  min- 
isters were  no  sooner  in  the  pillory  than  they  began  to 
preach,  soon  losing  all  consciousness  of  pain  in  their 
excitement,  shouting  denunciations  of  prelacy  and  pop- 
ery at  the  utmost  pitch  of  their  voices,  and  calling  upon 
all  "  God-fearing "  Christians  to  "  cast  out  Antichrist," 
by  whom  they  meant  Archbishop  Laud,  as  all  men  knew 
well.  Their  speech  was  rude  and  bombastic,  garnished 
with  coarse  epithets  and  violent  abuse;  but  no  one  dis- 
sented from  their  opinions,  and  every  allusion  to  the 
bishops  was  received  with  marked  approval. 

John  Dangerfield  did  not  preach.  His  face,  quiet  and 
refined  —  the  face  of  a  scholar  —  contrasted  sharply  with 
those  of  his  companions.  He  said  nothing  to  anyone 
except  to  thank  the  attendant  who  stanched  the  flow  of 
blood,  and  answered  courteously  in  the  negative  an 
enquiry  of  the  executioner  whether  he  had  dealt  hardly 
with  him.  "  I  would  not  an'  I  knew  it,  sir.  'Struth,  'tis 
a  fact,"  he  said,  softened  by  the  gentle  patience  of  his 
victim.  "  But  now  all  is  done  now,  and  the  rest  will 
soon  be  over;  wish  ye  well." 

Mr.  Dangerfield  was  very  different  from  his  son  in 
appearance;  so  different,  that  few  ever  saw  any  likeness 
between  them.  He  was  of  slight  build,  with  oval  face, 
pronounced  features  and  high  forehead.  The  lower  part 
of  the  face  was  small  and  feminine,  and  was  covered  by 
a  long  white  beard  which  made  him  look  many  years 
older  than  he  really  was.  He  had  an  abundance  of  sil- 
very hair  which  a  kindly  touch  from  an  attendant  brought 

14 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

over  the  sides  of  his  face,  conceahng  all  signs  of  mutila- 
tion. When  Ralph,  an  hour  after  the  execution  of  the 
sentence  forced  his  way  to  the  front  of  the  crowd,  he 
could  only  see  a  few  streaks  of  blood.  But  it  was 
enough,  and  more  than  enough.  He  saw  the  skin  quiv- 
ering with  pain  and  the  sweat  dripping  from  the  fore- 
head; and  while  he  waited  for  his  father  to  see  him  — 
for  Mr.  Dangerfield's  eyes  were  closed,  his  lips  moving 
in  silent  prayer  —  he  felt,  through  sheer  force  of  sym- 
pathy, the  throb  and  smart  of  wounds,  a  deadly  faintness 
made  his  knees  tremble  beneath  him,  and  his  throat 
became  so  parched  with  thirst  that  when  he  tried  to 
speak  no  sound  would  come,  only  the  dry  whisper  of  a 
name.  It  was  then  that  the  iron  entered  into  Ralph's 
soul,  and  the  blind  passion  of  his  furious  anger  hardened, 
and  took  form  and  shape  as  molten  lead  when  it  is 
dropped  into  a  mould.  He  looked  about  him,  saw  the 
stern  faces,  and  heard  the  angry  hum  of  many  voices. 
They  braced  his  nerves  and  gave  him  hope.  Others 
shared  his  feelings.  His  father  was  not  the  only  one 
who  had  suffered  martyrdom. 

At  last  Mr.  Dangerfield  saw  him  and  called  him  by 
name,  and  the  spell  was  broken. 

"Ralph,  dear  son,  you  here!  Bless  you,  boy!  bless 
you,  Taunton,  too!  Ah,  now  I  guess  who  planned  it. 
Nay,  I  do  not  suffer,"  answering  the  mute  questioning 
of  the  upturned  face,  "  nothing  to  mention.  This  good 
fellow,"  smiling  benignly  upon  his  attendant,  "  hath  been 
kindness  itself.  Now  it  is  such  a  happiness  to  see  your 
face  that  I  feel  naught.  I  shall  soon  be  with  you,  dear 
one.     Cheer  up,  cheer  up!  " 

He  spoke  in  strong,  bright  tones,  and  for  the  hour 
that  remained  of  his  penance  talked  at  intervals,  now  to 
Ralph,  now  to  the  doctor,  whose  presence  seemed  to  have 
a  great  effect  upon  the  keepers  of  the  pillor}^,  the  men 
being  assiduous  in  their  ministrations,  bathing  the  suf- 
ferer's forehead  with  vinegar,  and  giving  him  wine  and 

15 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

water,  trying  in  all  ways  to  assuage  the  pain.  But  in 
spite  of  all  this  care,  the  prisoner  became  rapidly  weaker, 
and  when  the  penance  came  to  an  end  at  last  he  fainted 
in  Doctor  Taunton's  arms.  Nothing  was  wanting  now 
that  knowledge  could  suggest  or  money  procure.  A  lit- 
ter was  brought  into  the  yard,  and  Mr.  Dangerfield 
borne  quickly  away  to  his  friend's  house.  Upon  their 
arrival  the  doctor  peremptorily  dismissed  Ralph. 

"  You  will  not  see  him  for  two  days  at  least,"  he  said. 
"  I  know  you  both.  Together  your  tongues  would  not 
cease  wagging  until  you  had  worn  him  out.  He  must 
be  quiet.  Go,  get  you  a  horse  and  ride;  or  better,  still, 
take  this  twenty  pound,  and  spend  it  on  the  pleasures  of 
the  town.  You  will  not!  Pish!  then  I  know  not  what 
to  recommend.  Take  your  own  course,  as  you  ever 
would  and  will.  I  wash  my  hands  of  ye.  But  come  not 
near  your  father.     He  is  in  no  danger  yet." 

Ralph  went  away  disconsolate  enough,  but  upon 
going  down  into  the  hall  his  face  brightened.  A  man 
had  just  dismounted  in  the  courtyard  begrimed  with 
dust  —  Lord  Charlton. 

"  Ha!  run  to  earth,"  he  cried.  "Well,  you  have  found 
refuge  in  an  old  fox's  hole,  dear  boy,  in  very  truth. 
But,  never  mind,  get  me  a  mouthful  of  food,  and  tell 
me  all  your  news,  and  send  word  to  your  good  doctor 
that  I  have  come  to  stay  awhile.  He  and  I  have  met 
before." 

Charlton  remained  a  week.  Acting  on  a  hint  from 
Taunton,  he  never  left  Ralph,  but  listened  patiently  to 
his  friend's  outbursts  of  invective  against  the  Govern- 
ment and  the  Star  Chamber,  and  his  dark  forebodings 
concerning  his  father's  condition.  In  the  intervals  he 
made  him  ride  and  fence  with  him,  and  take  all  kinds 
of  violent  exercise,  and  thereby  probably  saved  his 
reason.  Ralph  was  not  allowed  to  see  his  father  for 
seven  days,  and  though  each  day  Taunton  said  there  was 
no  danger,  a  presentiment  of  evil  weighed  upon  Ralph's 

i6 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

soul.  He  did  not  believe  the  doctor.  At  last,  on  the 
eighth  day,  Charlton  returned  to  his  protesting  Univer- 
sity, and  the  father  and  son  met. 

Ralph's  first  glance  at  the  white  and  transparent  face 
confirmed  his  worst  fears.  His  father  was  dying.  The 
shock  to  his  system  and  the  loss  of  blood  had  been  too 
much  for  his  constitution,  enfeebled  by  thirty  years  of 
sedentary  life.  The  end  was  but  a  matter  of  time.  Yet 
Ralph,  though  he  saw  all  this,  was  outwardly  calm,  and 
Mr.  Dangerfield,  who  had  expected  an  outburst  of  grief 
and  anger,  looked  up  with  anxious  surprise. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,  son.     Why,  it  is  quite  cold." 

And  then,  thrusting  aside  the  lassitude  which 
oppressed  him,  and  made  even  the  exertion  of  speaking 
a  positive  torture,  he  took  Ralph  to  task. 

"  ]\Iy  boy,  this  silence  pains  me  grievously.  I  see  that 
you  are  suffering,  and  I  know  that  it  is  on  my  account. 
Utter  your  thoughts  as  you  ever  have  done.  Have  I 
lost  my  son  too?" 

There  was  a  pathetic  cjuaver  and  suggestion  in  his 
voice  that  completely  unmanned  Ralph. 

"Those  accursed  villains,  they  have  killed  you!"  he 
burst  out.     But  Mr.  Dangerfield  stopped  him. 

"Nay,  that  is  not  true;  it  is  my  weak  body.  Others 
would  have  withstood  with  ease  what  crushes  me.  They 
could  not  know  how  frail  I  was.     Be  not  unjust." 

"Unjust!"  Ralph  cried.  "'Fore  God,  sir,  no!  That 
could  not  be  unless  I  were  to  forgive,  and  that  I  never 
will." 

A  sharp  sigh  of  pain  escaped  Mr.  Dangerfield,  but  he 
said  nothing,  and  Ralph  went  on,  his  passion  rising 
within  him  like  an  angry  sea.  "  Oh  for  the  day  to  come 
when  I  have  them  by  the  throat!  It  will  come.  I  could 
see  it  in  the  faces  of  the  crowd,  and  it  comforted  me 
mightily.  It  comforts  me  even  yet.  Deem  me  not 
bloodthirsty,  father.  Why,  if  they  had  done  it  to  me  I 
would  say  little.     But  that  you  should  suffer,  you  who 

2  17 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

never  harmed  a  soul,  who  have  done  good  all  yonr  life; 
that  they  should  hunt  you  down  and  crush  you  upon 
some  black-mouthed  devil's  lie.  I  say  they  are  worse 
than  beasts.     God  curse  them  all!" 

"Stay!" 

Ralph  paused,  arrested  by  a  strange  sternness  in  his 
father's  tone. 

"  Son,  you  have  gone  too  far.  No  one  has  lied.  Even 
these  '  priests '  as  the  bishops  call  themselves,  even  Laud 
himself,  spake  the  truth  so  far  as  they  could  see  it." 

"  But,  father,  they  called  you  a  Socinian,  one  who 
denies  Christ." 

"  They  accused  me  of  two  things,"  Mr.  Dangerfield 
rejoined,  his  eyes  kindling,  his  voice  stronger  than  it 
had  been  since  Ralph  entered  the  room.  "  The  first, 
that  I  was  a  Socinian  by  faith  and  practice;  the  second, 
that  I  had  writ  a  book  attempting  to  prove  that  my  faith 
was  based  upon  the  words  of  our  dear  Lord  Himself. 
Now  this  was  true;  nay,  more  for  I  have  proved  it. 
These  lords  of  the  Star  Chamber,  son,  thought  I  would 
be  halting  in  my  speech  and  feeble  in  my  arguments 
because  I  was  a  weakling  in  body.  I  promise  thee,  I 
made  them  pipe  another  tune  before  I  had  done  with 
them.  Never  was  I  so  roused.  Well,"  suddenly  paus- 
ing and  lowering  his  voice  to  its  former  weary  tone,  "  I 
should  not  dwell  upon  this.  Perchance  I  was  uplifted  by 
vanity  more  than  by  earnestness  of  faith.  It  is  nearly 
always  thus  with  disputations  in  religion.  The  blood 
heated  by  controversy  carries  the  tongue  away;  but, 
indeed,  if  I  sinned  in  such  a  manner  I  have  been  pun- 
ished for  it.  Taunton  tells  me  the  worst  rigour  of  my 
sentence  was  due  to  the  castigation  God  enabled  me  to 
inflict  upon  my  judges,  and  Taunton  knows  all  Court 
secrets.  Be  that  as  it  may,  no  witnesses  other  than  their 
own  ears,  which  I  trust  did  tingle  mightily,  were  needed 
to  prove  the  breach  of  their  canon  law;  wherefore  they 
punished  me.     God  forgive  them  for  their  cruelty  to  an 

i8 


CROA/[WELL'S  OWN 

old  man.  But  of  injustice,  as  they  construe  the  word, 
there  was  none.     I  grant  them  that." 

He  ceased,  panting,  and  observed  his  son  intently. 
Ralph  was  staring  at  him  with  horror-struck  eyes  and 
parted  lips. 

"  A  Socinian !  "  he  cried  at  last.  "  You !  Father,  what 
does  it  mean?  Why  —  why  did  you  keep  me  ignorant 
of  your  faith?  I  would  have  denied  it,  I  have  denied  it, 
with  my  life." 

A  spasm  of  pain  passed  over  Mr.  Dangerfield's  face, 
and  he  closed  his  eyes. 

"  My  poor  lad,"  Ralph  heard  him  murmur,  "  I  should 
have  known  —  yet  I  did  not  —  how  harshly  it  wovild 
sound  unto  thee.  Heavenly  Father,  be  merciful  to  him 
in  this  most  bitter  trial.  Let  me  suffer  still,  but  spare 
my  boy.  Ralph,"  he  said  aloud,  "  listen,  before  you 
judge  me  —  listen  to  what  I  have  to  tell.  Your  mother 
was  of  the  English  Church,  and  when  her  last  illness 
came  upon  her  she  begged  that  you  should  be  brought 
up  in  her  faith,  and  that  until  you  reached  manhood  no 
word  should  be  spoken  that  might  lead  you  into  doubts. 
I  made  the  promise.  In  keeping  it  I  had  to  conceal  my 
faith  from  you,  and  hand  over  your  religious  education 
to  our  rector.  He  was  a  good  and  worthy  man,  but  it 
was  hard.  God  knows  it  has  been  the  penance  of  my 
life.  Now,  looking  back,  I  do  not  know  that  I  was 
wrong.  It  is  my  belief  that  whatsoever  doctrine  appeals 
most  strongly  to  the  heart  and  understanding  of  a  man 
that  doctrine  he  should  embrace,  and  so  that  his  life  be 
pure  and  upright,  he  will  be  acceptable  to  God.  Truly 
it  must  be  so,  else  God  would  be  unjust  to  the  creatures 
He  hath  made.  The  time  hath  come  now  when  you 
should  know.  You  are  a  man,  matured  by  what  has 
passed,  and  I  thank  God  for  His  goodness  in  permitting 
me  to  tell  you  so  much.  I  can  say  no  more.  I  have 
no  strength  to  expound  or  argue,  were  that  judicious  or 
desirable,  and  this  I  doubt.     But  there  is  my  book.     The 

19 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

bishops,  in  their  vanity,  think  they  have  destroyed  my 
Hfe's  work.  This  is  not  so.  Two  copies  still  exist.  One 
hath  been  sent  abroad,  where  it  will  be  printed  when 
better  times  arrive  by  men  of  my  faith  and  issued  in 
this  country;  the  other  is  in  this  house  —  for  you.  It 
has  been  the  work  of  thirty  years;  I  can  die  content  now 
it  is  finished.     Thy  will,  O  God,  not  mine,  be  done." 

He  was  talking  to  himself  again,  and  Ralph,  with  an 
intensity  of  grief  which  cast  all  other  thoughts,  saw  that 
a  grey,  leaden  tinge  was  creeping  over  the  worn  face, 
and  that  the  hand  which  held  his  own  was  growing  chill. 
A  wave  of  passionate  misery  swept  over  his  heart.  He 
threw  himself  upon  his  knees  and  kissed  the  cold  fingers 
again  and  again. 

"  Daddy,  hear  me.  Can  you  hear? "  a  ghastly  fear 
striking  him  that  never  again  might  his  words  reach  his 
fathers  understanding.     But  of  this  he  was  reassured. 

"  Speak  distinctly,  and  not  too  fast.  Go  on,  tell  me 
what  you  will." 

"  I  only  want  you  to  know  how  I  love  you,  dearest, 
dearest."  And  then  his  voice  broke,  and  he  sobbed 
aloud.  "  That  whatever  your  faith  may  be  or  mine,  you 
have  all  the  love  and  reverence  that  ever  father  had  from 
son.  Is  there  no  hope?  Don't  leave  me  yet,  when  I 
need  you  most.  Father,  you  must  know  how  weak  I 
am,  how  wicked.  I  have  gambled,  I  am  in  debt,  I  have 
lied  to  you.  It  is  I  who  should  have  been  tortured.  I 
am  bad;  not  worthy  to  be  vour  son,  not  worthy  of  your 
love." 

"  Hush,  Ralph,  hush.  Thou  art  my  dearest.  Nay,  I 
am  not  so  simple  as  you  think.  I  knew  there  were  some 
debts;  I  have  saved  money  to  pay  them.  The 
doctor  holds  it.  Peace,  dear,  let  me  speak  on  graver 
matters  while  I  have  the  strength.  Our  good  doctor  said 
this  morning,  he  swore  by  the  Blessed  Virgin,  that  at 
my  death  he  will  cherish  you  as  his  son  and  make  you 
his  heir.     I  am  glad,  for  he  has  much  wealth,  and  none 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

on  whom  he  might  bestow  it ;  and  he  truly  loves  you.  I 
trust  that  through  the  goodness  of  God  your  life  may  be 
bright  and  happy  when  this  cloud  has  passed  away. 
But  you  must  promise  me  this:  when  I  have  been  laid 
to  rest,  follow  our  friend's  counsel  and  go  abroad.  He 
is  willing,  should  you  seriously  desire  it,  to  buy  you  a 
conmiission  in  the  army  of  the  States  General  in  Hol- 
land. I  dread  that  you  should  learn  the  trade  of  war, 
but  I  know  your  fiery  nature,  and  should  be  content. 
In  time  I  know  a  wish  to  see  your  native  land  will  bring 
you  home,  and  then  you  will  be  to  the  dear  doctor  what 
you  would  have  been  to  me  —  a  loving,  loyal  son.  Now, 
tell  me,  Ralph,  will  you  promise  this?  I  cannot  give  you 
time  to  think,  for  I  know  not,  moment  by  moment,  when 
my  call  may  come." 

He  paused  to  cough,  a  dry,  choking  cough,  which 
alarmed  Ralph. 

"  Tell  me,  dear,"  he  whispered.     "  Do  not  be  too  long." 

Ralph  sighed  heavily.  It  would  be  a  bitter  thing  to 
leave  England  with  storm-clouds  in  the  air,  and  the 
people  awakening  as  a  strong  man  from  sleep  to  the 
injustice  and  cruelty  in  high  places.  The  thought  was 
not  to  be  endured,  yet  could  he  deny  his  father?  But 
Mr.  Dangerfield,  who  in  spite  of  his  sufifering  was  watch- 
ing his  son's  face  keenly,  saw  what  was  passing  in  his 
mind,  and  with  an  effort  spoke  again,  this  time  with 
greater  strength. 

"  Do  not  think  that  I  would  prevent  you  from  doing 
your  part,  dear,  when,  if  ever,  the  people  of  England  are 
forced  to  take  strenuous  measures  to  win  their  rights. 
God  forbid!  But  as  yet  pressure  from  Parliament  may 
do  all  that  is  needed.  The  king  wants  money;  very 
soon  he  must  appeal  to  the  Commons  for  it,  and  then 
the  nation's  grievances  will  be  displayed  and  redress 
called  for  in  a  tone  no  monarch  may  disregard.  Yet,  if 
the  king  doth  not  yield,  or,  yielding,  doth  not  keep  his 
word  —  he  hath  not  in  the  past  —  then  the  future  is 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

dark.  But  this  I  see,  freedom  will  come,  though  it  be 
by  the  sword,  and  if  you  would  bear  a  fitting  part  in 
such  a  struggle  you  should  put  yourself  under  some 
training.  The  idea  grows  upon  me.  I  welcome  Taun- 
ton's thought  of  a  commission.  Though  war  is  hateful 
to  me,  you,  true  to  your  blood,  love  action,  strife,  and 
arms.  God's  finger  may  be  in  this.  I  dare  not  dispute 
His  will.  Yet  you  are  very  young,  too  young,  to  trace 
your  way  alone  amid  this  civil  strife  which  I  now  foresee 
is  hastening  upon  us.  Before  long  the  country  will  be 
divided  into  parties;  men  now  obscure  will  come  to  the 
front,  drawn  thither  by  their  strength  of  character.  I 
would  I  could  feel  that  you  were  with  such  a  one.  A 
man  who  loves  true  freedom,  but  not  anarchy,  who  fears 
nothing,  and  when  his  mind  is  set,  will  never  rest,  but 
go  steadily  on  to  the  goal  he  hath  set  himself  to  win  — 
a  man  faithful  to  his  country  and  his  friends.  My  son, 
bring  pen  and  paper  to  me.  I  would  write  a  letter.  Yes, 
I  am  strong  enough.  Fear  not  for  that.  When  God 
puts  such  a  purpose  into  a  man's  heart  as  He  hath  placed 
in  mine  He  will  give  the  power  to  carry  it  through." 

A  wonderful  change  had  come  over  Mr.  Dangerfield's 
face,  the  change  often  seen  just  before  death  in  those 
whose  minds  have  largely  dominated  their  bodies.  His 
eyes  were  bright,  his  face  full  of  animation.  With  a  lit- 
tle assistance  from  Ralph  he  sat  up  in  bed,  propped  by 
pillows,  and  wrote  rapidly  for  several  minutes.  Then 
he  sealed  the  letter  down  with  his  own  hand,  and  directed 
it  in  bold,  clear  characters :  — 

"  To  Oliver  Cromwell,  of  Ely,  sometime  Member  of 
Parliament  for  Cambridge,  Esquire." 

The  work  was  barely  accomplished,  and  he  still  held 
the  letter  in  his  hand,  when  Doctor  Taunton  entered  the 
room. 

"Writing,  indeed!  Truly,  John,  you  are  cozening  us, 
and  are  not  sick  at  all." 

Mr.  Dangerfield  smiled  at  the  abruptness  of  the  words 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  the  inquisitive  glance  shot  by  the  doctor  at  the 
letter. 

"  I  had  work  to  do,  but,  thank  God,  have  got  well 
through  with  it.  Ralph,  the  man  to  whom  this  letter  is 
addressed  is  an  old  and  valued  friend  of  mine.  If  trouble 
ever  comes  such  as  I  mentioned,  seek  him  out,  and 
give  him  this,  and  he  will  treat  you  well.  Remember 
you  Cromwell  at  college,  Taunton?  Now,  good  chi- 
curgeon,  out  with  thy  instruments  of  torture ;  I  defy  thee 
and  thy  works.  My  mind  is  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 
Son,  leave  the  room  a  space." 

They  kissed  one  another,  and  Mr.  Dangerfield  smiled 
and  nodded  brightly.  But  when  Ralph  was  gone  he 
sank  back  upon  the  pillows. 

"  Let  me  alone,  old  friend,"  he  whispered,  "  my  time 
is  almost  come.     I  would  be  at  rest." 
■  Taunton's  only  answer  was  to  feel  his  pulse  and  listen 
to   his   breathing.     Then   he   quietly   put   his   bandages 
away,  and  sat  down  beside  the  bed. 

"  It  will  be  in  an  hour,  John,  or  less." 

"  Then  call  Ralph  back  —  but  stay.  Taunton,  thou 
hast  been  my  truest  friend,  and  I  trust  thee  with  all  that 
is  precious  to  me  —  Ralph." 

The  doctor  twitched  his  head. 

"Why  did  you  write  to  Cromwell?" 

"Because" — he  hesitated  with  a  look  of  pain,  then 
his  mouth  grew  firm  — "  because,  dear  friend,  thou  art, 
and  ever  wilt  remain,  a  supporter  of  the  king,  even 
though  he  put  England  into  chains,  and  that  Ralph  can 
never  be.  I  know  your  principles,  even  as  I  know  your 
heart.  That  heart  I  trust,  it  is  the  best  I  know;  thy 
principles  be  the  worst." 

"  Because  I  am  a  Catholic." 

"No  such  thing,  indeed!  You  mock  me.  Man,  it  is 
your  religion  which  will  save  your  soul." 

"  Why  trust  you  this  Cromwell?  " 

"  Because  I   know  him.     He  hath  grave  faults,  but 

23 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

they  will  not  harm  my  boy.  I  am  well  aware,"  he  added, 
as  Taunton  significantly  shrugged  his  shoulders,  "  that 
he  is  but  a  country  squire,  and  that  mayhap  he  will  never 
be  more.  But  I  know  this,  any  who  are  in  trouble  go 
to  him;  he  fights,  and  fights  roughly,  but  it  is  on  behalf 
of  the  poor  and  oppressed.  That  is  the  man  I  wish 
Ralph  to  be  with  when  his  country  is  in  need.  Now 
send  him  to  me.  I  feel  to  grow  weaker  every  minute. 
The  end  comes  fast.     God  bless  you,  friend." 

Taunton  rose  to  obey,  then  bent  over  the  bed  and 
kissed  the  cold  forehead  twice.  He  had  gone  before 
Mr.  Dangerfield  could  speak,  and  hastening  from  the 
room,  called  Ralph  to  his  father's  side. 


CHAPTER  III 

RALPH  went  abroad  in  accordance  with  his  father's 
wish,  but  he  did  not  go  alone.  Three  days  after 
Mr.  Dangerfield  died  Lord  Chadton,  dressed  in  deep 
mourning,  called  at  the  doctor's  house  and  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  attend  the  funeral.  Ralph  was  greatly 
touched  at  such  a  mark  of  respect,  and  gave  an  eager 
consent;  but  Taunton,  the  worldly-wise,  shook  his  head 
and  drew  the  young  man  aside. 

"  Do  not  venture  it,  my  lord.  I  know  your  motive, 
but  think!  'Twill  be  a  scandal  that  will  cling  to  you 
like  a  bloodstain.  All  his  friends  but  me  hold  back 
afraid,  as  well  they  may.  A  Socinian  is  worse  than  an 
infidel  in  the  eyes  of  the  bishops.  I  am  tough  and  too 
prickly  even  for  his  grace  to  touch.  But  you  —  his 
godson  —  as  all  the  world  knows " 

"  Therefore,"  his  lordship  interrupted,  "  I  go.  Waste 
not  your  breath,  worthy  doctor.  He  sent  for  me  yes- 
terday, hearing  that  I  had  been  with  Ralph.  My  audi- 
ence lasted  half  an  hour,  and  I  warrant  you  that  I  was 
not  the  one  who  wearied  first.  'Slife,  doctor!  my  blood, 
which  in  usual  is  much  too  cool,  was  hot  for  once — • 
boiling!  I  might  have  been  Ralph  himself!  I  fairly 
put  his  grace  agape  with  horror;  I  ended  by  telling  him 
I'd  go  to-morrow  in  my  best  coach  with  full  array  of 
servants.     Deny  me  not,  my  heart  is  set  upon  it." 

The  doctor  made  no  answer,  scanning  Charlton  with 
curious,  searching  eyes.     Then  he  held  out  both  hands. 

"  My  faith,  young  sir,  but  you  are  the  best  friend  that 
boy  of  mine  hath  made.     Command  me  always!" 

So  Lord  Charlton  had  his  way,  and  in  consequence 

25' 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  authorities  of  Sidney  refused  to  readmit  him  to  his 
college.  But  his  lordship  only  laughed,  and,  fired  by 
Ralph's  example,  made  up  his  mind  to  accompany  him 
abroad.  They  joined  the  same  regiment.  From  the 
day,  however,  that  the  friends  entered  upon  this  new  life 
they  began  to  see  less  and  less  of  one  another.  The 
change  came  gradually,  and  it  said  much  for  the  quality 
of  their  friendship  that  to  the  end  their  intimacy  and 
affection  never  wavered.  It  was  but  the  natural,  inevi- 
table drifting  apart  of  natures  set  in  different  moulds. 
In  the  army,  as  at  college,  Charlton  did  as  little  work  as 
circumstances  permitted,  and  devoted  his  best  energies 
to  amusing  himself;  while  Ralph,  possessed  now  by  a 
purpose  which  grew  ever  stronger  as  time  passed, 
worked  with  all  the  energy  and  strength  that  was  in 
him,  and  found  his  chief  pleasure  in  the  things  which 
his  lordship  particularly  loathed  —  the  daily  drill  and 
military  exercises.  Ralph  seemed  to  have  found  his 
vocation.  On  active  service  he  was  the  most  zealous 
ofhcer  in  the  regiment.  Hardship,  coarse  food,  and  lack 
of  sleep  he  took  like  a  veteran,  without  complaint,  almost 
without  notice.  In  camp  he  spent  one-half  of  his  time 
learning  the  art  of  handling  cavalry,  the  other  half  in 
studying  gunnery  and  fortification  under  his  colonel, 
who  had  been  a  soldier  for  forty  years.  Cards,  dice, 
horse-racing  he  gave  up  absolutely.  Charlton  taxed  him 
with  Puritanism;  Ralph  replied  that  he  had  not  time. 

"  I  liked  them  at  college,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  Now  I 
like  soldiering  better.  Perchance  I  shall  be  tired  of  that 
soon,  and  take  to  something  else." 

And  then  he  would  knit  his  brows  thoughtfully,  and 
fall  into  an  abstracted  silence  that  greatly  puzzled  his 
lordship. 

When  twelve  months  had  gone  Charlton  noticed 
another  change  in  Ralph.  He  was  getting  restless  and 
homesick.  Not  a  day  passed  but  he  would  be  found 
asking  for  news  from  England.     Yet  he  had  little  need 

26 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

to  make  enquiry,  for  he  was  better  supplied  than  anyone 
else.  Doctor  Taunton  was  not  only  a  very  faithful 
chronicler  of  events,  but  he  had  exceptionally  accurate 
knowledge  of  what  was  passing  both  at  Court  and  in 
Parliament.  He  stood  at  the  head  of  his  profession  for 
diseases  of  the  nerves  and  brain,  and  was  consulted  by 
the  greatest  men  in  the  land;  he  belonged  to  a  powerful 
Catholic  family,  and  was  medical  attendant  to  the  queen. 
Yet,  though  Taunton  was  in  all  the  secrets  of  the 
Court,  and  had  even  been  consulted,  it  was  said,  by  her 
majesty  in  delicate  afifairs  of  State,  it  would  have  passed 
the  ingenuity  of  an  Italian  Jesuit  to  discover  his  politics 
by  his  letters  to  Ralph.  He  found  fault  with  everyone 
alike  —  king,  Parliament,  and  people.  The  first,  he  said, 
was  weak;  the  second,  self-seeking;  the  third,  noisy  and 
impudent.  As  time  went  on,  however,  though  Taun- 
ton's comments  upon  the  king's  blunders,  his  vacilla- 
tion, his  betrayal  of  Strafford,  and  his  ignorance  of  the 
temper  of  his  people,  were  caustic  enough  to  have  landed 
him  in  the  Tower  had  they  been  read  by  the  authorities, 
Ralph  noticed  that  the  chief  bitterness  of  his  criticism 
was  directed  against  the  leaders  in  the  Commons. 

"  Hampden  may  be  honest,"  he  wrote.  "  He  hath  a  fine 
presence  and  a  polished  tongue.  He  is  a  gentleman.  But  God 
help  him!  He  is  the  most  popular  man  in  England,  and  will 
come  to  a  violent  end.  Pym  and  the  rest  behave  like  men  who, 
having  tasted  strong  liquors,  to  which  they  be  unaccustomed, 
are  determined  to  continue  drinking  until  they  see  the  bottom 
of  the  cask,  though  it  bring  them  to  the  gutter.  Oliver  Crom- 
well, member  for  Cambridge,  is  the  worst  of  these.  I  went  to 
the  House  the  other  day  to  hear  him  speak.  He  is  not  greatly 
changed  since  college  days,  except  in  bulk  of  body.  Unman- 
nerly, as  he  was  then,  without  respect  for  any  but  himself,  saying 
roundly  what  he  thinks,  or  pretends  to  think,  spite  of  all  author- 
ity._  A  plague  upon  such  mushroom  men.  All  they  ask  for  his 
majesty  hath  granted;  yet  they  are  not  content.  No,  do  not 
come  home  yet.  England,  with  this  stink-pot  of  a  Parliament 
and  its  foolish  king,  is  no  place  for  honest  men  at  present. 
Wait!  " 

At  last,  in  July,   1642,  Ralph  received  all  unexpect- 

27 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

edly  a  summons  which  sent  him  in  haste  to  his  com- 
mander-in-chief.    The  letter  was  a  mere  scrap :  — 

"  The  time  has  come.     I  await  you  here. 

Sydney  Taunton. 
"  P.  S. —  The  cask  is  dry." 

When  Ralph  went  to  seek  an  audience  with  his  gen- 
eral he  found  Charlton  bound  on  the  same  errand. 
Whom  his  lordship  had  heard  from,  or  what  he  had 
heard,  Ralph  never  knew;  but  they  resigned  their  com- 
missions together,  and  travelled  to  England  by  the  same 
ship.  The  air  was  full  of  rumours.  One  said  war  had 
been  declared  by  the  king  upon  the  rebel  Parliament; 
another  that  Westminster  was  already  surrounded  by 
troops,  and  there  would  be  a  score  of  members  beheaded ; 
a  third  that  the  king's  life  was  in  danger,  and  so  it  went 
on.  Charlton  was  in  a  feverish  state  of  excitement, 
cursed  the  slow  pace  of  the  ship,  and  burned  to  throw 
himself  at  the  feet  of  the  king. 

"  It  is  not  the  bishops  he  upholds,"  he  said  to  Ralph 
as  they  paced  the  deck  together.  "  When  my  godfather 
was  clapped  into  the  Tower  the  sun  went  down,  and  I  for 
one  said  Amen  to  it.  But  for  these  Commons  to  ruffle 
it  in  the  face  of  his  majesty!  God's  truth!  'tis  past  all 
patience.  Nay,  the  king  has  been  too  patient,  too  gentle, 
with  the  knaves.  Thank  God,  he's  turned  on  them  at 
last.  We'll  rally  to  him,  as  all  true  men  must,  and  put 
the  rascals  down." 

He  turned  to  Ralph  for  sympathy,  but  Ralph  was 
grimly  silent.  Yet  he  made  no  attempt  to  defend  the 
men  who  had  defied  the  king.  He  simply  kept  his  own 
counsel  and  said  nothing  at  all.  Charlton  was  amazed 
and  hurt,  as  well  as  vaguely  uneasy;  but  feeling  that 
there  were  depths  here  he  had  better  leave  unfathomed, 
he  did  not  press  too  far,  and  their  friendship  came  forth 
even  from  this  ordeal  as  strong  and  true  as  ever.  They 
parted  at  the  river-side,  and  Ralph  went  straight  to 
Doctor  Taunton's   house.     It   was   again   early   in   the 

28 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

morning  of  a  summer's  day  when  Ralph  found  himself 
alone  in  the  surgery  waiting  for  the  doctor,  as  he  had 
waited  two  years  ago.  He  looked  about  him  curiously. 
All  was  the  same,  even  to  the  glint  of  sunlight  glancing 
on  the  crucifix  against  the  wall.  He  alone  was  changed. 
He  went  to  the  figure  on  the  cross  and  gravely  kissed  it. 

"  As  Thou  sulTered,"  he  murmured,  "  so  did  he.  And 
now  the  time  has  come  when,  please  God,  I  shall  keep 
my  vow.  But,  oh,  the  loneHness  —  the  loneliness  of 
life.  Two  years!  It  seems  a  score.  I  feel  old.  I  have 
nigh  worked  myself  into  a  dry  bone  of  a  man.  Thank 
God,  it  is  over." 

The  door  opened,  and  the  doctor  came  in.  They 
shook  hands  in  silence,  and  then  Taunton  said  shortly:  — 

"  I  should  not  have  known  ye.  Broader  by  a  hand's 
breadth,  but  that  is  not  it.  Tanned  by  sun  and  wind  to 
a  red  brick-brown;  but  that  is  naught.  It  is  the  shape 
of  thy  face,  the  cast  of  thy  features,  the  mouth,  the  chin. 
H'm  —  come  to  breakfast." 

The  doctor  had  not  altered  a  bit.  The  same  dry, 
inscrutable  face;  the  same  keen,  restless  eyes;  the  same 
quick,  alert  movements.  Yet  Ralph  could  have  fancied 
he  Avas  a  little  smaller  than  he  used  to  be. 

"There  will  be  no  rest,  lad,  for  you!"  he  said,  after 
he  had  asked  a  few  questions  about  life  in  the  Low 
Countries.  "  Time  presses  for  all,  but  most  particularly 
for  those  who  would  serve  the  king." 

He  paused,  and  looked  Ralph  in  the  face,  but  receiv- 
ing no  reply,  he  went  on  rapidly :  "  There  are  not  any 
who  have  kept  their  senses  in  the  Commons ;  but  I  know 
one.  We  will  call  on  him  to-day.  To-morrow  I  will 
take  you  to  the  king." 

"  Not  to-morrow,  doctor." 

Taunton  wiped  his  mouth  with  a  napkin,  and  slowly 
drank  half  a  glass  of  ale. 

"Why  not?" 

Ralph  pushed  his  plate  av/ay. 

29 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  I  have  other  business.  To-morrow,  by  rise  of  sun, 
or  an  hour  before  an'  the  day  be  warm,  I  start  for  Ely. 
I  understand  Master  Cromwell  dwells  there  still." 

"You  have  kept  that  letter?" 

For  answer  Ralph  took  it  from  an  inner  pocket  of 
his  doublet,  kissed  it  reverently,  and  thrust  it  back  again. 

"  It  has  been  there,  doctor,  since  he  gave  it  me." 

"  This  Cromwell,"  the  doctor  said,  with  peculiar  dry- 
ness and  distinctness,  "  is  a  very  bloody-minded  rebel. 
Your  father  was  never  that.  To-day  he  would  stand 
with  us." 

"  Think  you  so?  I  do  not."  Ralph  spoke  with  a 
bluntness  that  was  almost  rude.  Then,  controlling  him- 
self, "  Forgive  me,  doctor  dear.  I  am  a  soldier,  and  my 
manners  are  grown  rough.  I  will  not  talk  politics  with 
you." 

"A  soldier  are  you?"  Taunton  said,  paying  no  atten- 
tion to  the  last  words.  "  Then  you  must  believe  in  dis- 
cipline. Where'er  Cromwell  goes,  they  say,  a  hungry 
rabble  follows  at  his  heels  to  rob  or  plunder.  He  and 
his  friends  would  overturn  the  throne  and  govern 
England  with  a  mob.  But,  say  you,  Charles  is  a  tyrant, 
and  you  like  not  tyrants.  Why,  boy,  this  Parliament 
will  prove  a  greater  tyrant  than  any  king  —  two  hundred 
tyrants  in  the  place  of  one.  Know  you  that  they  have 
passed  a  law  that  they  should  not  be  dissolved  without 
their  own  consent?  What  does  that  mean?  But  I 
waste  breath  upon  you.  Is  your  mind  quite  made  up? 
I  see  it  is.  How  youth  rushes  at  life,  never  weighing 
bad  with  good,  but  running  headlong  upon  impulse. 
Well,  well,  I'd  thought  your  brain  had  cooled  when  I 
saw  your  face  an  hour  since;  but  it  is  the  same  mad, 
hasty  Ralph  as  of  old." 

"  Nay,  sir,"  the  young  man  ansvv^ered  quickly,  "  not 
hasty  this  time." 

*'  How  so?     You  said  your  mind  was  set." 

"  And  so  it  hath  been  for  full  two  years.     I  pray  you, 

30 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

doctor,  let  us  talk  of  something  else."     His  tone  was 
beseeching,  but  Taunton  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  No,  for  our  minds  are  full  of  this.  You  go  to  offer 
yourself  to  Cromwell?" 

"I  go  to  keep  my  promise;  nothing  more.  I  know 
not  how  I  shall  like  Master  Cromwell,  nor  whether  he 
will  take  to  me.  From  all  I  hear  I  do  not  expect  to 
remain  long  with  him." 

Taunton's  face  brightened. 
''Why  not?" 

"  I  am,  as  you  have  said,  a  soldier.  That  he  hath 
never  been.  Then  he  is  a  very  pious  man,  they  say.  As 
my  father's  son  —  a  Socinian's  son  —  I  may  not  be  wel- 
come. But  no  more  of  this,  sir.  I  will  not  speak 
another  word  about  my  plans." 

It  was  very  early  indeed  when  Ralph  started  for  Ely, 
but  he  found  the  doctor  on  the  steps  to  see  him  ofT.  At 
sight  of  the  traveller's  dress  Taunton  threw  up  his  hands 
in  affected  horror. 

"Good  lord,  boy,  what  is  this?  Black  riding-cloak, 
boots  like  a  train-band  trooper,  a  castor  featherless, 
doublet  of  leather.  You  are  a  Puritan,  indeed!  Clip 
your  hair,  and  you'd  be  the  worst  Roundhead  of  them 
all." 

Ralph  laughed,  and  shook  his  love-locks  in  vigorous 
protest. 

"  Not  yet.  I  am  but  an  old  campaigner  preparing  for 
rough  travel.  ]\Iy  armour's  in  my  trunk;  but  I  keep  that 
for  the  day  I  meet  the  king,"  and  his  eyes  gleamed 
curiously. 

"Do  ye  mean  battle?"  snapped  Taunton  scornfully. 
"In  battle,  sir!"  Ralph  said,  flushing;  "and  then" — 
he  drew  a  deep  breath  and  knit  his  heavy  brows  —  "  may 
God  give  me  strength  to  drive  my  sword  well  home." 

The  doctor  shuddered,  then  his  eyes  blazed,  and  he 
drew  himself  up. 

"What!"   he   thundered.     "Boy,   thou'rt    mad.     Lay 

31 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

thy  hand  upon  the  Lord's  anointed!     It  would  wither  at 
the  wrist!  " 

"  That  is  as  God  wills,"  was  the  cool  reply.  "  I  know 
this:  the  king  signed  the  warrant  against  father,  and  for 
that,  were  he  lord  of  all  the  earth,  I'd  kill  him,  an'  I  get 
fair  opportunity.     Doctor,  fare  you  well." 

He  set  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  the  animal,  fresh  from 
the  stable,  bounded  gaily  off. 

Taunton  wiped  his  brow. 

"  My  God !  what  a  fool  I  was  to  think  two  years 
might  tame  him;  two  hundred,  if  he  lived,  would  not 
wipe  out  the  memory  of  that  day.  Changed  did  I  say? 
Aye,  as  green  wood  you  may  bend  turns  to  the  oak  you 
cannot  break.     He  will  never  change." 

Ralph  rode  leisurely.  He  knew  by  bitter  experience 
what  happens  to  the  rider  that  spares  not  his  beast  on 
a  hot  day.  It  was,  therefore,  late  when  he  approached 
liis  destination.  The  ride  from  London  to  Ely  was 
nowhere  very  interesting  or  picturesque  in  those  days. 
The  country  was  bare,  marshy,  and  treeless,  and  when 
Cambridge  was  passed  there  was  nothing  to  right  or  left 
but  one  long  stretch  of  fen.  The  road  from  Cambridge 
to  Ely  was  good,  for  it  had  been  raised  artificially  above 
the  level  of  the  green,  oozy  marsh  around  it;  but  it  was 
monotonous  and  dreary  to  the  last  degree,  and  Ralph, 
who  was  tired  and  hot  and  very  thirsty,  became  exceed- 
ingly depressed.  Here  and  there  rows  of  willows  and 
poplars  broke  the  horizon  line,  and  at  intervals  he  passed 
a  rude  and  weather-beaten  hamlet;  but  he  did  not  meet 
a  soul,  and  had  nothing  to  occupy  his  attention  but  his 
own  thoughts.  At  last  before  him,  rising  as  it  were 
from  space,  he  saw  the  great  square  tower  of  the  cathe- 
dral, and  was  comforted,  as  so  many  generations  of 
travellers  must  have  been,  by  the  prospect  of  a  speedy 
arrival  at  his  journey's  end.  Distances,  however,  on  a 
clear  day  are  sometimes  illusory  in  the  fens,  and  Ralph 
found  that  though  he  plodded  steadily  on  the  cathedral 

32 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

seemed  to  get  no  nearer.  But  the  nature  of  the  road 
was  changing-.  High  walls  lined  the  roadside;  he  was 
approaching  a  village.  This  was  cheering;  a  village 
meant  an  inn,  and  an  inn  refreshments.  Ralph's  horse 
was  apparently  struck  by  this  fact  at  the  same  moment 
as  his  master,  for  he  quickened  his  pace.  Then  they 
turned  a  corner  where  the  road  curved  sharply  to  the 
left,  and  then  to  his  amazement  Ralph  found  himself 
surrounded  by  armed  men,  two  of  whom  caught  his 
bridle  and  called  on  him  to  halt. 

Now  Ralph  was  exactly  in  the  mood  when  a  quarrel 
is  most  grateful  to  the  feelings,  and  he  had  not  been  a 
soldier  for  two  years  for  nothing.  He  reined  in  sharply 
as  if  in  obedience  to  the  order,  noted  that  there  were  but 
half  a  dozen  troopers,  and  plunging  in  the  spur,  caused 
his  horse  to  bound  forward  against  one  man,  while  at 
the  same  moment  he  drew  his  pistol  from  his  holster  and 
fired  point-blank  at  the  other.  Such  a  manoeuvre  as 
this  was  totally  unexpected,  and  though  Ralph's  pistol 
missed  fire,  the  men  were  thrown  violently  backwards, 
and  Ralph  dashed  on;  but  just  as  he  thought  himself 
free  he  received  a  blow  on  the  back  of  his  head  which 
knocked  him  ofif  his  horse  and  stunned  him.  When  he 
came  to  himself  it  was  nearly  dark.  He  was  lying  on 
the  grass,  a  cloak  rolled  beneath  his  head,  and  a  mur- 
mur of  voices  about  him.  A  light  flashed  in  his  eyes; 
someone  had  lit  a  lantern  and  placed  it  near  his  face. 

"Quartermaster's  struck  home!"  he  heard  a  voice 
say.    "  r  fackins,  Sanctify,  but  it's  near  settled  him!  " 

"  It's  a  joyful  mercy,  then,"  another  replied  solemnly. 
"  He  meant  death  unto  you,  corporal.  It  is  plain,  any- 
way, that  he  be  a  bloody  malignant." 

"How  know  you  that,  you  dreaping  fool?"  broke  in 
a  deeper  voice  —  the  quartermaster's  Ralph  felt  by 
instinct.  "  Lift  the  light  higher.  See,  the  young  man 
is  coming  to  sense  again.     Now,  sir,  who  be  you  and 


33 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

what's  your  errand  in  the  fens?     Speak  up,  we  mean  ye 
no  harm !  " 

Ralph  waited  a  minute  before  answering.  He  was 
fully  conscious  now,  but  wished  to  get  some  idea  of  the 
situation  before  he  committed  himself. 

"  By  what  warrant  do  you  question  me?  You  are 
a  soldier.     Is  there  war  in  the  fens?  " 

While  he  was  speaking  he  heard  the  sound  of 
approaching  hoofs  along  the  road,  and  now  by  the  dim 
lantern-light  saw  a  man  dismount  and  the  quartermaster 
straighten  himself  with  a  salute. 

"A  prisoner,  Reuben?     Wounded?    What  is  this?" 

The  voice  was  harsh  and  strong. 

"  No   wound,    captain,"    growled   the    quartermaster. 

"  'Twas  but  a  stroke  I  lent  him  from  my  pike's  end  when 

he  fired  upon  Sanctify  there.     We  had  stopped  him — 

according  to  orders." 

"Tush,  man!"  the  officer  ejaculated  impatiently. 
"  Naught  I  said  justified  violence.  Who  is  this 
gentleman?  " 

"That  he'd  best  answer  for  himself,"  and  the  quar- 
termaster drew  back  offended. 

The  newcomer  was  standing  over  Ralph  now,  observ- 
ing him  closely,  and  Ralph  saw  that  he  was  a  squarely- 
made  man  of  middle  age,  dressed  in  plain  riding-clothes. 
He  looked  like  a  country  farmer,  with  something  mili- 
tary in  his  bearing. 

"  Art  hurt?  "  he  said,  his  tone  curt  and  business-like. 
"  Methinks  the  stroke  of  pike  was  a  shrewd  one." 

"  I  should  not  be  here  else,"  Ralph  said,  smiling  at  the 
frankness  of  the  admission. 

"  Ah,  say  you  so?     What  did  you  to  deserve  it?  " 
"  All  that  I  could.     But  they  took  me  in  ambuscade." 
"Then  they  acted  foolishly,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 
"Whither  are  you  bound?" 

Ralph  returned  his  questioner's  keen  stare  with 
interest. 

34 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  What  may  be  your  reason  for  asking?  " 

"  The  safety  of  the  nation,  friend.  I  hold  warrant 
from  Pariiament  to  enquire  into  the  business  of  all 
riders  to  the  north.     Now,  I  pray  you,  your  errand?  " 

"  I  am  journeying  to  Ely,  to  the  house  of  one  Oliver 
Cromwell.     Perchance  you  can  direct  me." 

The  man  frowned. 

"  Mean  you  Sir  Oliver,  the  worshipful  knight?  " 

"  He  may  be  a  knight,"  Ralph  said  doubtfully.  "  But 
that  is  not  likely.  I  mean  the  member  of  Parliament 
for  Cambridge  town." 

There  was  a  sudden  uneasy  movement  among  the 
men,  who  had  clustered  round  the  group  in  a  very  unmil- 
itary  manner,  and  the  quartermaster  was  heard  to  mut- 
ter curious  words.  The  officer,  meanwhile,  caught  up 
the  lantern  and  held  it  close  to  Ralph's  face. 

"  What  d'ye  want  with  him?  " 

"  Take  me  to  his  house,  and  if  it  be  his  pleasure  I  will 
tell  you." 

The  other  laughed  —  a  short,  rough  laugh. 

"  That  need  hardly  be,  man.     I  am  Oliver  Cromwell." 

Ralph  drew  a  long  breath  of  surprise.  So  great  was 
his  astonishment  that  he  forgot  his  giddiness  and  faint- 
ness,  sprang  from  the  ground,  and  stared  blankly  at  his 
questioner  for  several  moments.  Pie  had  pictured  to 
himself  these  two  years  what  his  father's  old  friend  would 
be  like,  and  had  always  seen  a  tall,  dignified  person,  a 
man  who  in  manner  and  speech  would  be  cold,  formal, 
and  prim,  with  the  high-crowned  hat  and  closely-cut  hair 
already  afYected  by  the  Puritans  of  the  stricter  sort.  This 
man,  the  real  Cromwell,  was  the  reverse  of  all  these 
things.  He  wore  his  hair  moderately  long,  he  was  two 
inches  shorter  than  Ralph  himself,  and  in  face,  as  in 
figure,  he  w:as  broad,  massive,  and  strong.  His  lips 
were  full,  his  eyes  steel-grey,  very  large  and  deeply  set, 
his  nose  heavy,  his  chin  long  and  deep  —  an  ugly  face, 
yet  remarkable  even  at  first  glance  by  reason  of  its  power 

35 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  dignity  of  expression.  Ralph  could  not  take  his 
eyes  away. 

"  I  have  a  letter  to  deliver  unto  you,"  he  said  at  last. 
"  I  think  it  will  make  my  business  clear." 

Cromwell  glanced  at  the  superscription,  dropped  on 
one  knee,  and  read  it  by  the  lantern-light;  while  Ralph 
stood  over  him,  clenching  his  hands,  conscious  of  an 
uncomfortable  dryness  at  the  back  of  his  throat  and  an 
irritation  round  the  eyes.  His  father's  words  were  ring- 
ing in  his  ears.  It  seemed  as  if  they  had  been  spoken 
yesterday. 

Cromwell  read  the  letter  slowly  from  end  to  end, 
folded  it  up  with  reverent  care,  and  then,  to  Ralph's 
extreme  surprise,  laid  both  hands  upon  his  shoulders. 

"  Welcome  —  welcome,  John  Dangerfield's  son.  Let 
me  look  at  thee.  Is  there  a  likeness?  I  cannot  see  it  — 
except  a  trace,  perchance,  in  the  expression  of  your  eyes. 
John's  son!  It  brings  back  old,  old  days  to  hear  his 
name  —  the  days  he  would  sit  talking  to  my  mother  with 
the  quiet  and  gentle  deference  she  loved,  and  used  to  wish 
I  would  imitate.  Ah!  have  I  pained  thee,  lad?  That 
is  not  well.  Nay,  be  not  ashamed  of  tears.  Truly,  a 
man  who  did  not  weep  for  the  loss  of  such  a  father  would 
be  without  a  heart.  I  heard  of  his  punishment  —  so  ill 
deserved.  I  grieved  much  that  he  had  not  writ  to  me 
for  aid.  But  it  was  his  nature  never  to  complain.  And 
he  sends  thee  —  but,  tut,  how  I  prate,  whilst  thou  art 
fainting.       Reuben,  hither!" 

He  wheeled  round  and  dropped  back  into  his  custom- 
ary curt  speech.  The  quartermaster,  Reuben  Sweetlove, 
a  grizzled  veteran  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War,  came  for- 
ward with  slow  precision,  and,  because  he  expected  a 
severe  reprimand,  stood  peculiarly  erect,  towering  above 
his  captain  some  four  inches,  a  pillar  of  protesting  self- 
righteousness. 

"  You  have  heard  me,"  was  all  Cromwell  said.  "  Give 
orders  to  two  men  to  escort  this  gentleman  to  my  house. 

36 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Canst  ride  now?  "  turning  to  Ralph  again,  his  voice  soft- 
ening. "  Reuben,  though  he  meant  no  harm,  is  not 
light-handed  when  in  haste." 

Ralph  laughed  and  tenderly  felt  the  place. 

"  My  brain  sings  still,"  he  said.  "  But  it  is  nothing. 
I  trust  the  man  my  horse  knocked  over  is  in  no  worse 
plight.     My  pistol,  by  good  fortune,  missed  its  fire." 

"  You  failed  then  to  look  at  your  priming  when  you 
set  forth  to-day,"  Cromwell  said  gruffly.  "  Fie  on  your 
carelessness.  Here  is  your  horse.  I  have  business  in 
this  village,  but  will  follow  soon.  Is  that  you.  Sanctify 
Jordan?  Then  I  charge  you  to  give  Mistress  Cromwell 
this  letter,  and  tell  her  from  me  that  Master  Dangerfield 
will  sup  and  remain  with  us  the  night.  Your  name, 
Ralph,  will  be  your  welcome.  Now,  my  men,  mount 
you  quickly.     Reuben,  ride  with  me." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  task  of  the  men  who  first  took  upon  themselves 
the  responsibihty  and  expense  of  raising  an  army 
for  the  service  of  the  Padiament  was  a  very  laborious 
and  difficult  one.  Affairs  were  in  a  strangely  chaotic 
state  at  this  time.  Reliable  news  from  London  travelled 
slowly,  and  the  number  of  men  outside  Parliament  in  the 
early  part  of  the  summer  of  1642  who  knew  the  precise 
significance  of  the  deadlock  between  the  king  and  the 
Commons  was  very  few. 

On  May  26th  Parliament  resolved  to  take  "  measures 
of  defence  "  against  the  king,  and  in  August  the  Royal 
Standard  was  raised  at  Nottingham;  but  during  the 
intervening  months  it  was  only  in  certain  counties  that 
any  systematic  preparations  were  even  begun,  most  men 
hoping  against  hope  that  a  compromise  would  be  made 
which  would  prevent  actual  bloodshed.  Here  and 
there,  however,  were  men  who  had  lost  all  hope  of  a 
peaceful  settlement.  Cromwell  was  one  of  these,  and 
early  in  July  he  set  to  work  to  enlist  and  equip  a  troop 
of  horse  with  characteristic  energy.  The  recruiting  of 
the  rank  and  file  he  accomplished  with  comparative  ease, 
for  he  had  a  strong  personal  influence  in  the  fens.  More- 
over, he  was  fortunate  in  procuring  in  Reuben  Sweetlove 
a  first-rate  quartermaster. 

Reuben  had  originally  been  groom  to  Cromwell's 
uncle,  Sir  Oliver,  in  the  days  of  his  glory  as  the  Knight 
of  Hinchinbrook;  but  early  in  youth,  finding  service 
uncongenial, he  had  gone  abroad, and  enlisted  under  Gus- 
tavus  Adolphus.  As  a  soldier  he  not  only  earned  some 
distinction,  but  laid  by  a  goodly  store  of  savings;  and 

38 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

leaving  the  army  after  the  battle  of  Lutzen,  at  the  deatK 
of  the  King  of  Sweden,  he  returned  to  his  native  land 
and  country  to  settle  down.  Here  he  rented  a  farm  from 
Cromwell,  and  it  was  not  long  before  a  close  friendship 
sprang  up  between  the  men.  Cromwell,  indeed,  in  this 
instance  as  in  others,  scandalized  his  aristocratic  rela- 
tions by  the  degree  of  intimacy  he  allowed,  and  even 
encouraged,  between  his  family  and  his  uncle's  old  ser- 
vant. Not  only  did  he  take  counsel  with  Reuben  on 
many  farming  matters,  especially  horses,  of  which  the 
old  cavalry  man  had  a  profound  knowledge,  but  he 
invited  him  to  sup  at  his  house,  and  would  listen  by  the 
hour  to  his  stories  of  the  prowess  of  his  beloved  com- 
mander "  the  Lion  of  the  North,"  and  to  circumstantial 
accounts  of  his  campaigns. 

When  the  war  clouds  began  to  gather,  it  was  to  Reuben 
that  Cromwell  first  went  for  aid  to  mould  his  troop.  He 
found  the  old  veteran  eager  for  action,  and  ready  not  only 
to  serve  himself,  but  to  add  his  mite  to  the  subscription 
for  arms,  which  Cromwell  had  headed  with  a  gift  of  five 
hundred  pounds. 

The  day  that  Ralph  arrived  at  Ely  thirty  men  had  been 
enrolled,  and  were  already  acquainted  with  the  rudi- 
ments of  drill.  Cromwell  could  have  had  twice  this 
number,  but  he  was  hampered  by  want  of  officers.  Ely 
and  the  immediate  neighbourhood  was  a  hot-bed  of  Roy- 
alists; and  Cromwell  had  obtained  a  warrant  from  Par- 
liament to  watch  "  suspects,"  and  arrest  them  if  need 
be,  search  suspicious  houses  for  stores  of  plate  and  arms, 
and  intercept  messengers  to  the  king.  Such  work  as 
this  demanded  a  discretion  on  the  part  of  the  officer  in 
command  —  a  quickness  of  judgment,  firmness,  and  self- 
restraint  which  it  was  not  easy  to  find.  The  exceptional 
quality  of  the  troopers,  and  the  superiority  of  Sweetlove 
to  most  quartermasters,  made  the  choice  of  cornet  and 
lieutenant  peculiarly  difficult,  and  so  far  Cromwell  had 
found  no  one  to  his  mind.     It  was  not  his  way  to  be 

39 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

easily  satisfied  with  men.  The  work  required  of  his 
troop  was  done  and,  so  far,  done  well;  but  this  was  due 
to  his  own  energy  and  Sweetlove's,  and  meant  a  con- 
stant wearing  activity  for  them  both,  night  and  day, 
which  could  not  last. 

The  business  which  Cromwell  had  on  hand  when  he 
sent  Ralph  on  to  his  house  was  a  visit  to  the  principal 
mansion  in  the  village  of  Stretham,  in  which  a  hundred 
pikes  and  muskets  were  said  to  have  been  collected  for 
the  use  of  the  royal  army.  The  inspection  of  this  place 
took  him  half  an  hour.  The  family  were  away,  and  an 
aged  housekeeper  was  the  only  person  to  be  seen. 
Courteously  detaining  the  woman  in  the  hall,  Cromwell, 
with  an  apology  for  the  necessities  of  the  time,  distrib- 
uted his  men  in  different  directions,  and  presently  dis- 
covered the  arms  in  a  closet.  He  removed  them, 
gravely  handed  a  formal  receipt  in  the  name  of  the  Par- 
liament to  the  protesting  servant,  and  departed,  not  so 
much  as  a  pasty  taken  from  the  larder  or  a  pennyworth 
of  plunder  from  the  house.  The  troop  now  turned  home- 
wards, Reuben  and  his  captain  riding  ahead. 

"What  think  you  of  that  youth  Dangerfield?"  Crom- 
well said  suddenly. 

The  quartermaster  winced  as  if  a  wasp  had  stung  him. 

"  Too  big  for  his  boots,"  he  growled,  "  too  proud  i' 
the  stomach;  wilful  and  sharp-tongued  —  that's  what  I 
think." 

"  What  else?  " 

"  I  will  see  him  in  daylight  first." 

"  Nonsense!  Your  eyes  need  no  daylight  to  read 
character.  Play  not  with  me.  Has  the  shield  another 
side?" 

Sweetlove  wriggled  in  his  saddle,  and  swore  a  deep 
Dutch  oath.  Swearing  was  strictly  forbidden  in  the 
troop,  but  in  Reuben's  opinion  the  interdict  only  applied 
to  English.  Cromwell  was  never  heard  to  contradict 
him. 

40 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"You  knew  his  father,  captain,"  he  said;  "'tis  you 
should  answer  that."  Then  after  a  pause,  Cromwell  keep- 
ing silence,  knowing  the  man  with  whom  he  had  to  deal, 
he  continued  in  a  voice  suggestive  of  water  pumped  from 
a  deep  well :  — 

"  I  don't  say  he's  a  laggard,  and  he  rides  pretty.  Fear 
don't  come  anigh  him,  and  I  could  fancy  you  will  find 
that  he's  commanded  men." 

"  How  know  you  that?  " 

"  Know  it? "  exclaimed  the  quartermaster  testily. 
"  Did  I  say  I  knew  it?  I  know  this,  he's  as  fro  ward  a 
cockerel  as  ever  I've  seen,  with  just  a  soft  enough  tip 
to  his  tongue  to  cozen  his  father's  friend,  while  I  warrant 
he  drank  the  king's  health  this  morning  with  his  own." 

He  gave  a  hoarse  laugh,  and  prepared  himself  for  an 
unpleasant  rejoinder;  but  Cromwell  said  nothing,  nor 
did  he  speak  again  until  he  briefly  dismissed  his  men 
for  the  night. 

It  was  now  nine  o'clock,  a  late  hour  in  those  days,  and 
Cromwell  entered  his  house  quietly,  expecting  to  find 
his  family  in  bed. 

This  house,  which  still  stands,  was  an  unpretentious 
dwelling  of  two  stories  facing  the  Cambridge  road.  On 
the  right  was  St.  Mary's  Church;  to  the  left  the  great 
tithe  barn  of  Ely,  long  since  pulled  down.  The  house 
was  of  grey  stone,  with  a  roof  of  brown  tiles,  from  which 
the  windows  of  the  second  storey  peeped  out  upon  the 
side  road  and  a  little  spread  of  green  sward  common,  a 
cluster  of  small  houses,  St.  Mary's  Church,  and  the  cath- 
edral. So  high  and  so  steep  was  the  roof,  that  the  upper 
rooms  were  more  lofty  than  those  below,  though  all  were 
spacious.  The  front  entrance  opened  into  a  large,  square 
hall,  with  a  great  fire-place,  cold  and  empty  now,  in 
winter  a  mass  of  glowing  embers  and  roaring  logs.  At 
the  further  end  of  the  hall  was  a  passage  which  led  with 
many  a  twist  and  turn  to  the  rest  of  the  house :  first,  the 
staircase  on  the  left,  narrow  and  winding;  then  round 

41 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  corner,  and  on  the  right  Cromwell's  library  and  study, 
with  an  outer  door,  through  which  the  farmers  came  to 
pay  their  tithes ;  another  turn,  and  there  was  the  kitchen 
with  its  mighty  beams,  countless  nooks,  and  huge  chim- 
ney-corner; at  the  end  of  the  passage  the  garden,  stretch- 
ing seventy  yards  and  more  by  the  churchyard,  walled 
in,  with  good  turf  and  well-kept  flower-beds.  A  modest, 
unassuming  little  house,  dwarfed  to  insignificance  by 
that  imposing  pile  the  deanery,  frowned  upon  by  the 
cathedral,  yet  holding  within  it  a  greater  human  interest 
than  them  all  as  the  home  for  many  years  of  one  of 
England's  greatest  sons. 

The  living-room  was  a  square,  plainly-furnished  apart- 
ment, the  largest  in  the  house,  opening  out  of  the  hall, 
close  by  the  front  door,  and  here  Cromwell  found  his 
family.  A  lady  of  middle  age  and  three  girls  were 
seated  at  a  table  laid  for  supper,  and  at  the  further  end 
of  the  room  were  two  men  who  had  not  yet  taken  their 
places  —  Ralph  and  a  tall,  spare  personage,  dressed  in 
the  Geneva  gown  of  a  Presbyterian  minister.  The  man 
had  a  remarkable  face.  His  forehead  was  high,  but  nar- 
row and  flat  at  the  sides ;  the  eyes  prominent,  with  over- 
hanging brows,  which  stood  out  in  sharp  distinctness 
from  a  mass  of  short,  bristling  hair.  He  had  the  appear- 
ance of  a  man  of  superabundant  energy  of  mind  —  one 
who  wore  away  his  bodily  strength  in  a  continual  fever 
and  fret.  At  the  moment  of  Cromwell's  entrance  he  was 
speaking  in  a  tone  of  severe  rebuke. 

"  Young  man,  your  language  is  abominable.  It  is 
beyond  endurance.  Retire  immediately  to  your  cham- 
ber. Indeed,  I  mean  this,  and  can  command  obedience, 
having  some  authority  in  this  house.  The  heresy  you 
mouth  so  glibly  is  a  foul  and  horrible  thing,  unfit  to  pol- 
lute the  ears  of  these  innocent  women.  Think  you  that 
a  God-fearing  household  will  break  bread  with  the  son 
of  an  accursed " 

"  Silence!  " 

42 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Ralph  stamped  his  foot,  and  the  glasses  on  the  table 
rattled.     One  of  the  ladies  screamed. 

"  Repeat  not  that  word,"  he  thundered,  "  or,  aged 
though  you  be,  I  will  drive  it  down  your  throat !  Under- 
stand that  I  allow  no  man,  though  it  were  the  king  him- 
self, to  insult  my  father's  name.  He  led  a  pure  and  sin- 
less life,  and,  whate'er  his  faith,  he  died  a  martyr  to  it. 
Now  let  me  pass.  I  leave  this  house  to-night.  I'll  not 
trouble  its  master  for  his  hospitality." 

He  turned  with  proudly-lifted  head,  and  came  face  to 
face  with  Cromwell. 

"  Stay,  friend!  Nay  " — as  Ralph  would  have  pushed 
past  him  with  scant  ceremony  — "  I  will  not  have  it!  I'll 
hold  you  though  I  tie  you  to  your  bed  with  ropes.  Tush! 
have  you  forgotten  all  I  said?  This  is  my  house.  Come, 
I  insist." 

He  had  grasped  Ralph's  arm  with  one  hand;  now  he 
laid  the  other  on  his  shoulder, 

"  Master  Hepworth,  you  are  under  some  strange  mis- 
take. This  young  gentleman  is  the  son  of  a  dear  friend. 
Ralph,  I  would  introduce  you  to  the  Reverend  Isaac  Hep- 
worth,  a  most  godly  minister.  Peace  now,  sirs,  both! 
We  must  to  prayers  and  a  chapter,  and  then  to  our  sup- 
per.    The  hour  is  late." 

With  great  gentleness,  but  with  a  firmness  there  was 
no  resisting,  Cromwell  drew  Ralph  with  him  to  the 
table;  and  then,  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  he  took  up 
a  Bible  that  lay  there  and  sat  quietly  down. 

The  minister  and  Ralph  looked  at  one  another,  and 
Ralph  bit  his  lip. 

"  I  crave  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said,  drawing  a  quick 
breath.  "  My  speech  was  hasty,  but  " —  with  another 
breath  — "  I  cannot  withdraw  my  words." 

"  Let  them  pass,"  the  minister  rejoined,  with  a  grave 
inclination  of  the  head.     "  Truly,  this  is  not  my  dwelling, 
but  Master  Cromwell's.     My  friends,  let  us  pray." 
They  all  knelt  down,  Ralph  between  Cromwell  and 

43 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  minister.  The  prayer  was  long  and  eloquent  — 
there  were  no  short  prayers  in  those  days  —  but  the  pith 
of  it  lay  in  the  last  sentence. 

"  We  ask  Thy  blessing,  O  Lord,  upon  this  house  and 
all  who  dwell  therein,  even  upon  the  guest  arrived  this 
night  within  its  gates.  We  crave  Thy  mercy  and  con- 
sideration for  his  sad  case  in  fullest  measure  for  Christ's 
sake." 

Cromwell  then  read  a  chapter  from  the  Psalms,  and 
then  at  last  all  took  their  places  at  the  table.  The  con- 
clusion of  the  meal  was  the  signal  for  the  ladies  to  retire. 
When  they  rose  Ralph,  according  to  the  usage  he  had 
learnt  abroad,  hastened  to  open  the  door,  greeting  each 
as  she  passed  him  with  a  courteous  obeisance.  The  atten- 
tion was  evidently  luiexpected.  The  first  of  the  ladies, 
Mistress  Cromwell,  acknowledged  the  salutation  with  a 
stiff  little  bow;  the  next,  a  tall  girl,  her  eldest  daughter, 
tried  to  respond  with  grace,  but  spoilt  the  effect  by  a 
giggle;  the  third,  a  little  maiden  of  thirteen,  shook  a 
roguish  face  and  a  head  of  yellow  curls  at  him,  and 
laughed  outright;  but  the  fourth,  a  damsel  who  seemed 
older  than  the  rest,  curtsied  back  with  a  composure  that 
was  both  dignified  and  modest.  Ralph  wondered  who 
she  was. 

As  Ralph  closed  the  door,  the  minister  raised  his  brows 
at  Cromwell  and  coughed  significantly,  as  a  hint  that 
some  emphatic  expression  of  opinion  concerning  such 
demeanour  —  considered  highly  incorrect  in  Puritan 
households  of  the  time  —  would  be  seasonable.  But 
Cromwell  only  filled  a  goblet  with  wine. 

"  Drink  this,  young  friend,  and  then  to  your  bed.  You 
must  be  aweary.  A  ride  from  London,  with  my  quar- 
termaster's pike-end  against  your  skull  at  the  close, 
maketh  a  hard  day's  work.  To-morrow  I  shall  ask  you 
certain  questions.     You  have  seen  military  service?" 

"  Two  years  in  Holland,  sir." 

"What  commission  held  you?" 

44 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Cornet  of  horse,  afterwards  lieutenant." 
"  I  thought  so.  Now  to  rest  —  to  rest." 
There  was  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  Cromwell's  eye  as 
he  ushered  his  guest  to  his  chamber  which  puzzled  Ralph, 
and  the  grasp  of  his  hand  as  they  parted  was  almost  pater- 
nal in  its  warmth.  Ralph  pondered  over  this,  then  upon 
the  harsh  bigotry  of  the  minister,  upon  the  Cromwell 
family  and  their  homely  ways,  lastly  on  that  maiden. 
Who  was  she  —  another  daughter?    Then  he  fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  V 

WHEN  Cromwell  came  downstairs  after  seeing 
Ralph  to  his  room,  he  found  his  wife  waiting  for 
him  in  the  hall.  She  was  walking  restlessly  to  and  fro 
—  after  the  manner  of  nervous  people  when  they  are  tired 
and  out  of  sorts  —  pushing  the  furniture  into  unaccus- 
tomed places,  and  thrusting  into  cupboards  articles  which 
were  generally  left  out. 

Mistress  Cromwell  was  a  pale  woman  of  forty,  with  a 
round  face  and  small,  regular  features.  In  girlhood  she 
had  been  pretty,  but  her  face  was  spoilt  by  a  querulous, 
dissatisfied  expression,  due  partly  to  temperament,  partly 
to  ill-health.  Mistress  Cromwell,  it  was  said,  seldom 
found  the  world  to  her  taste,  or  the  people  in  it.  She 
greeted  her  husband  now  in  a  tone  of  fretful  protest. 

"  Past  eleven  o'clock,  and  you  up  at  five  this  morning! 
Not  one  fair  sleep,  or  even  rest  for  your  limbs,  have  you 
taken  these  two  weeks  past.  It  is  a  most  grievous  mat- 
ter, if  you  could  but  see  it.  Even  a  young  man  should 
not  play  so  rashly  with  himself,  and  you  are  not  young." 

"  Wherefore,  dear  heart,  I  know  my  own  capacities 
full  well.  Strength  of  body!  Pooh!  I  have  enough 
and  to  spare.  I  would  my  mind  and  brain  were  quicker, 
but  it  rests  with  God.  He  made  me.  Thou'rt  tired, 
wife.  Follow  the  rest  at  once.  I  have  work,  a  matter 
of  some  writing.  I  should  be  in  the  library  now,  not 
spoiling  your  sleep." 

He  bent  down  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead,  but  she 
turned  fretfully  away. 

"  The  library  is  locked  up.  Yes,  Susan  lit  the  can- 
dles, but  I  snuffed  them  out,  and  awaited  you  here. 

46 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Now  hearken  to  me,  if  but  for  once,  and  go  to  bed.  It 
will  be  sinful  if  you  work  again  to-night.  An'  you  love 
me  and  the  children  you  will  not.  But  we  are  seldom 
in  your  thoughts,  methinks,  these  days." 

Cromwell  sighed. 

"  My  dear  wife,"  he  said  very  gently,  "  speak  not  vain 
words ;  God  hath  given  me  this  work  to  do,  and  His  will 
must  be  fulfilled.  I  shall  not  sleep  to-night.  In  a  few 
hours  we  start  for  Cambridge  on  an  errand  of  the 
urgentest  importance.  Till  then  I  must  write  with  all  the 
speed  I  may.  Do  not  again,  an'  it  please  you,  my  dear, 
undo  what  I  have  ordered  to  be  done.  It  wastes  my 
time  and  wears  my  patience.     Now  —  good-night." 

He  kissed  her  again,  walked  into  the  library  and  closed 
the  door. 

It  was  one  of  the  trials  of  Cromwell's  life  that  he  rarely 
received  support  or  sympathy  from  his  wife  in  his  public 
work.  Mrs.  Cromwell  was  a  conscientious  woman,  a 
careful  mother,  a  thrifty  housewife;  but  she  found  it  hard 
to  understand  why  her  husband,  with  the  many  claims 
upon  his  time  at  home,  should  expend  so  much  energy 
upon  other  people.  When  honours  came,  and  a  great 
position,  she  accepted  them  with  resignation,  and  strug- 
gled hard  to  do  her  duty  according  to  her  lights.  But 
she  was  not  happy.  Mrs.  Cromwell  was  emphatically 
one  of  those  people  who  believe  that  charity  should  begin 
and  end  at  home. 

There  is  an  evil  fate  about  interrupted  work.  No 
sooner  had  Cromwell  relighted  his  candles  and  sorted 
out  the  mass  of  correspondence  which  had  been  pouring 
in  all  day,  than  a  knock  came  at  his  door,  and  he  was 
delayed  again.  The  culprit  was  his  second  daughter,  the 
curly-headed  maiden  of  thirteen.  She  came  in  without 
waiting  for  an  answer  to  her  knock,  and  rushing  impetu- 
ously to  him,  planted  herself  upon  his  knee. 

"  Nay,  scold  me  not,  daddy,  dear  heart,"  she  cried, 
as  her  father  laid  his  pen  down  with  a  grave  shake  of 

47 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  head.  "  I  ought  to  be  in  bed,  I  know.  Yes,  but 
so  ought  you ;  I  heard  mother  say  so.  Well,  I  would  have 
been  long  since,  but  I  could  not  let  Rachel  go  alone  to 
the  kitchen,  she  might  have  had  a  fright;  and  then  —  and 
this  is  the  real  reason  —  I  was  just  going  to  say  my  pray- 
ers, when  I  found  I  must  ask  you  something  first  —  a 
most  urgent  thing.  But  oh,  daddy,  why  look  you  so 
very,  very  tired?" 

All  this  came  in  a  breath  and  a  half,  her  soft  cheek 
pressed  against  his,  her  hand  smoothing  back  the  locks 
of  iron-grey  from  the  careworn  forehead. 

Cromwell  tried  to  look  severe. 

"  Elizabeth,"  he  began,  but  she  put  her  hand  to  his 
mouth. 

"  Oh,  don't,"  she  cried,  "  Elizabeth  means  you  are 
angered  with  me.  You  must  not  be.  It  is  a  matter  of 
great  importance  I've  to  ask  you  concerning  my 
prayers." 

She  spoke  in  so  solemn  a  tone  that  Cromwell  became 
curious. 

"  It  is  a  long  time  in  the  asking,  Betty.  Out  with  it, 
then,  and  scamper  back  again.  Thine  aunts  would  say 
it  was  my  duty  to  whip  thee  well  for  such  a  midnight 
freak.     Tell  me,  and  be  off." 

"  I  did  not  think  to  come,"  the  child  said,  flushing 
and  smiling,  "  till  Bridget  said  I  was  afeared.  I  had  to 
then.  Father,  it's  —  it's  about  that  gentleman,  Mr. 
Ralph.  I  do  not  remember  his  other  name.  I  want  to 
pray  for  him.  May  I?  Bridget  said  it  was  not  right 
for  me  to  pray  for  a  stranger  when  he  was  a  man,  but 
when  I  asked  her  why  she  could  not  tell.  I  may,  an'  I 
wish  to,  may  I  not?  " 

Cromwell  looked  keenly  down  into  the  earnest  little 
face. 

"  Why  dost  wish  to  pray  for  our  guest,  pussy?" 

"  Because  he  hath  been  used  so  ill,"  she  cried,  tossing 
back  her  curls  and  sitting  erect.     "  If  you  had  heard  what 

48 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Master  Hepwortli  said  you  would  believe  it.  When 
mother  brought  Mr. —  Mr.  Ralph  in  where  we  were  wait- 
ing supper,  no  sooner  did  Master  Hepworth  hear  his 
name  —  Dangerfield,  that  was  it  —  than  he  made  a  hor- 
rid gruff  noise  in  his  throat.  *  What! '  he  cried  out  " — 
and  here  Miss  Betty  deepened  her  own  little  voice  into 
a  comical  likeness  of  the  minister's  — "  '  are  you  the  son 
of  that  Socinian  Schismatic  whose  book  hath  been  so 
great  a  detriment  to  all  true  believers  and  an  encourage- 
ment to  the  vilest  heretics?  Stand  back,  sir' — Mr. 
Dangerfield  had  bowed  to  him  — '  I  will  not  touch  your 
hand.'  At  this  Mr.'Ralph  did  stand  back,  as  indeed  he 
well  might,  and  a  look  came  into  his  face  of  such  hot 
anger  that  I  trembled. 

"  '  Sir! '  he  said  in  sharp  tones,  '  I  am  John  Danger- 
field's  son  —  and  proud  of  it.' 

"  He  was  very  quiet  and  scornful,  but  for  all  that  he 
looked  like  one  hurt;  and  I  was  not  the  only  one  to  see 
it.  Rachel  did,  for  when  I  squeezed  her  hand  under 
the  table  she  squeezed  mine  back.  As  for  Master  Hep- 
worth,  he  seemed  to  lose  himself  in  anger,  and  while  we 
sighed  sorely  for  our  supper,  he  began  accusing  Mr, 
Dangerfield's  father  of  every  wicked  thought  and  deed 
there  is  —  all  because  he  had  writ  this  book.  And  I 
think  it  was  very  cruel  of  him,  and  unjust;  for  that  Mr. 
Dangerfield  is  dead,  and  this  one  had  naught  to  do  with 
the  book.  I  watched  his  face  close.  It  looked  like  — 
oh,  I  do  not  know  what.  His  eyes  were  fierce  and  his 
mouth  bitter;  but  his  lips  trembled,  as  I  saw  yours  trem- 
ble when  you  whipped  Dick  once  for  telling  lies.  At 
last  he  broke  in,  and  said  such  things  must  not  be  said 
about  his  father,  and  that  the  book  was  a  beautiful  and 
sacred  book.  This  sent  Master  Hepworth  into  a  high 
passion,  and  when  you  came  he  had  just  ordered  Mr. 
Dangerfield  to  leave  the  room  —  your  room !  We  were 
so  glad  you  came  —  Rachel  and  I.  Rachel  was  crying. 
She  felt  her  uncle's  words  to  be  as  unjust  as  I  did.  I 
X  49 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

could  have  danced  with  joy  to  see  your  face,  and  how 
you  brought  Ralph  —  I  mean  Mr.  Dangerfield  —  back. 
I  have  cried  since,  because  I  knew  he  felt  very  badly. 
I  do  so  want  to  pray  for  him.  You  will  let  me,  won't 
you,  daddy  dear?  Say  yes,  and  I  will  run  straight  away 
to  bed.  I  want  to  ask  God  to  keep  Master  Hepworth 
from  ever  saying  such  things  again." 

The  child  had  slipped  from  her  father's  knee  in  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  and  now  she  stood  with 
demurely-folded  hands,  but  eager  eyes,  searching  his 
face.  She  could  not  read  its  expression.  He  seemed 
displeased,  yet  when  he  spoke  it  was  with  his  customary 
tenderness. 

"  Child,  thy  little  brain  is  a  sadly  active  and  inquisitive 
one.  Thou  art  too  prone  to  pry  into  what  thy  elders  do 
and  say,  the  rights  of  which  thou  canst  not  judge  and 
should  not  question.  Still,  I  would  not  discourage  thee 
in  prayer.  Pray  for  our  young  friend,  and  especially 
ask  God  to  give  him  patience,  he  will  need  it  sorely  all 
his  life.     Why,  Rachel!" 

The  door  had  opened  again,  and  the  damsel  who  had 
curtsied  to  Ralph  came  in  with  a  tray  in  her  hands,  bear- 
ing a  steaming  tumbler  of  cognac,  a  beaten  egg,  and 
milk. 

"  The  house  is  'witched  to-night,"  Cromwell  went  on, 
as  Betty,  having  got  her  wish,  kissed  him  and  vanished. 
"  What  have  you  here,  wicked  adopted  daughter  of 
mine?     Where  have  you  been?     Fie,  fie!" 

"  Mistress  Cromwell  gave  me  the  flask,"  she  answered, 
stooping  over  the  chair  to  kiss  him,  "  I  have  but  heated 
the  milk  and  beat  the  egg.  Must  you  take  no  rest 
to-night?" 

"  It  is  a  conspiracy,"  Cromwell  said  laughing,  "  and 
this,  I  believe,  be  a  drug.  Yet  the  flesh  is  weak,  for  I 
cannot  resist  the  taste.  'Tis  good  indeed.  Rest,  say 
you?  My  child,  I  have  twenty  letters  to  write,  and  I 
start  for  Cambridge  in  four  hours.     Would  you  then  tell 

50 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

me  to  rest?  Daughter  of  Thomas  Fullerton,  what  mean 
you?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  that,"  the  girl  said  hastily,  "  or  I 
would  not  have  asked  so  useless  a  question.  But  I  long 
to  help  you.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  your  face  grow  wear- 
ier day  by  day,  and  sit  by  idle  and  useless.  These  are 
times  when  it  is  hard  to  be  a  woman." 

Cromwell  turned  in  his  chair  and  held  her  at  arm's 
length. 

"  Worse  and  worse.  Upon  my  faith  thou'rt  no  less 
a  child  than  little  Betty,  for  all  thy  knowledge  and  thy 
grave  deportment.  I  must  preach  thee  a  homily,  I  see. 
Listen!  It  is  a  man's  business  to  strike  down  evil  and 
uphold  the  right.  A  man  that  doeth  this,  if  he  strike  but 
hard  enough,  doeth  the  will  of  the  Lord.  But  God's 
most  perfect  work  is  a  woman  —  such  as  my  mother 
hath  been  and  is  now,  such  as  thou  wilt  be.  Men  do  the 
fighting,  but  women  hold  the  power  if  they  but  choose. 
Let  them  see  they  use  it  aright.  Your  time  hath  not 
come  yet,  but  it  will  some  day.  And  now  to  thy  bed, 
daughter  Rachel." 

He  kissed  her,  then  turned  his  back  upon  her  and  took 
up  his  pen. 

The  girl  slowly  retired,  looking  over  her  shoulder  as 
she  went  at  the  weary  head  bent  over  the  heap  of  papers. 
Before  she  reached  the  door  an  idea  occurred  to  her, 
and  she  came  back  again. 

"  I  can  help  you,"  she  cried,  with  a  decision  that  made 
Cromwell  look  up  in  surprise,  "  and  I  must.  These  let- 
ters, I  could  write  them  to  your  dictation  if  you  would 
let  me.  I  can  spell,  father  taught  me,  and  I  writ  much 
for  him  to  his  agent  in  foreign  parts.     Oh,  try  me,  sir!  " 

Her  eyes  —  quiet  sober  ones  —  shone  with  a  mute  but 
eloquent  appeal;  then,  seeing  him  shake  his  head,  she 
caught  his  hand  between  both  of  hers. 

"  I  know  these  fingers  are  tired,  strong  though  they 
be.     Mine  have  done  no  work  to-day.     Besides,  you  can 

SI 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

dictate  much  speedier  than  write.  Father  used  to  say 
I  could  be  a  swift  scribe  when  I  tried.  It  would  be  a 
great  happiness  to  me  to  do  it.  My  life  is  empty  often- 
times just  for  want  of  the  work  I  used  to  do.  You  are 
all  good  to  me  —  too  good  —  but  I  miss  that  work. 
Then  these,"  touching  the  letters,  "  are  sacred.  If  I  am 
worthy,  to  help  you  how  father  would  rejoice.  He  ever 
promised  that  I  should  do  my  share  —  when  the  time 
came.     It  has  come  now." 

There  was  a  deep  silence  for  a  minute.  Then  Crom- 
well rose  from  his  chair  and  paced  the  room  and  Rachel 
had  to  wait  two  minutes  more  before  he  answered  her. 

"  Yet,  why  not?  "  he  said  suddenly,  as  if  he  were  com- 
muning with  himself.  "  I  say.  Why  not?  This  cause  is 
not  mine  or  that  of  any  man.  It  is  God's.  We  are  His 
instruments,  set  here  to  tear  down  the  evils  that  the  devil 
hath  built  up.  Let  all  help,  then  —  women  and  chil- 
dren, old  men  and  maids.  Yes,  my  daughter,  you  shall 
have  your  way,  and  shall  begin  to-night.  What  thy 
Uncle  Hepworth  will  say  —  but  it  shall  be.  Sit  there, 
then!     Take  up  thy  pen  and  write!  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

CROMWELL  dictated  and  Rachel  wrote  for  two 
hours.  He  began  slowly,  and  when  the  first  letter 
was  written  took  it  up  and  read  it  through.  He  made  no 
comment,  but  the  succeeding  ones  were  dictated  much 
more  rapidly.  And  now  Rachel  had  no  respite,  for 
Cromwell's  mind  was  concentrated  upon  his  work.  The 
girl  soon  became  extremely  weary,  for  early  hours  were 
kept  in  those  days,  and  she  had  risen  at  five  that  morn- 
ing; but  she  showed  no  sign  of  faltering,  nor  thought  of 
it,  and  was  only  distressed  because  of  an  increasing  dif- 
ficulty she  felt  to  keep  pace  with  the  sharply-spoken  sen- 
tences—  sometimes  long,  involved,  and  bristhng  with 
parentheses,  at  others  crisp  and  brief  and  telling.  At 
last  the  harsh  voice  stopped,  and  Cromwell  kissed  her 
on  the  forehead. 

"All  are  finished.  Twenty  letters  in  two  hours! 
Truly,  while  you  live  with  me  —  which  will  not  be  for 
long  if  I  work  you  so  —  I  shall  be  in  little  trouble  with 
my  letter-writing.  Thou  hast  done  well.  Away  with 
you  —  secretary." 

The  correcting  and  signing  of  the  correspondence 
occupied  Cromwell  half  an  hour;  then  he  got  up  and 
slowly  paced  the  room  in  deep  thought. 

"  Shall  I  put  that  test  upon  him?  "  he  mused.  "  It  will 
be  rash,  yet  worth  a  risk.  If  blood  doth  count  for  any- 
thing in  these  matters  he  should  be  of  the  best.  His 
father  was  strong  in  thought  though  weak  in  body, 
audacious  even  to  sinfulness  in  his  independence  of 
authority.  His  grandfather  was  Francis  Drake's  best 
captain  — one  who  spoke  blunt  truth  to  Queen  Eliza- 

53 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

beth,  and  was  imprisoned  for  it.  But,  stay,  there  was 
the  mother  —  a  woman,  I  remember,  much  on  her  dig- 
nity. H'm!  He  gets  his  handsome  face  from  her, 
maybe  his  nature  too.  Then  he  must  have  lived  these 
two  years  among  maHgnants.  Yet  he  comes  to  me;  he 
hath  kept  that  letter  warm  in  his  bosom  and  his  love 
for  his  father  fresh  and  green.  He  respects  no  person 
when  his  blood  is  up.  Witness  Hepworth.  I  am 
tempted  sore.  Wait,  '  Not  the  king  himself,'  he  said. 
Why  should  he  name  Charles  Stuart  an'  he  was  not  to 
him  his  '  great  and  sacred  majesty,'  as  they  term  the 
man?  The  scales  are  weighted  here.  Perhaps  in  time, 
but  for  this  expedition,  no  —  he  will  not  do." 

He  paused  in  his  stride,  and  snufifed  out  one  of  the 
two  candles  standing  on  the  table  and  put  away  the 
papers  on  his  desk;  then,  taking  the  other  candle,  held 
it  up  to  a  picture  on  the  wall.  It  was  a  drawing  of  a 
boy's  head,  crudely  executed  and  of  sickly  colouring,  yet 
touched  with  a  certain  power,  a  likeness,  not  a  daub. 
Beneath  it,  in  Cromwell's  hand,  was  written,  "  Robert. 
Aged  14." 

He  had  been  the  eldest,  his  parents'  joy  and  pride. 
His  death,  three  years  before,  was  the  severest  wrench  of 
his  father's  life,  and  had  nearly  broken  his  mother's 
heart.  A  bright,  strong  face,  wide-open,  eager  eyes,  and 
firm-set  mouth;  the  lips  just  parted  with  a  smile. 
To-night  the  character  of  this  son,  serious  beyond  his 
years,  impulsive,  forcible,  came  into  Cromwell's  memory 
with  a  curious  insistence;  tears  fell  from  his  eyes  and 
rolled  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  muttered  aloud: 

"  Robin,  Robin,  if  I  had  but  thee  at  my  side.  Oliver 
poor  lad,  will  do  his  best,  but  thou!  O  God,  Thy  ways 
are  indeed  inscrutable!  Why  didst  Thou  take  him  whom 
we  needed  so?  That  face  —  how  I  remember  it!  There 
was  no  other  like  it,  nor  ever  will  be.  I  never  —  but, 
hold;  that  is  strange!  strange!  " 

He  held  the  candle  close.     "  Where  is  the  likeness? 

54 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  is  dark;  Robin  was  fair.  He  is  tall,  which  Robin 
never  would  have  been.  Neither  in  feature  nor  in  form 
can  I  see  any  resemblance  at  all.  And  yet  —  it  was  that 
defiance  to  the  minister,  the  flash  of  eye,  the  ringing 
tone  of  voice,  the  righteous  anger  in  defence  of  one  he 
loved.  Aye,  this  reminded  me  of  Robin.  Was  it  for 
naught  —  a  passing  fancy  of  the  brain,  or  a  message 
from  the  Almighty  sent  to  guide  my  action  now?  " 

He  stood  some  moments  buried  in  thought.  "  And 
I  was  not  the  only  one  whose  heart  he  touched,"  he 
muttered  again;  "  Betty  trusted  him.  A  child  gifted  with 
the  unerring  instinct  of  a  child.     It  shall  guide  me." 

He  left  the  room  and  mounted  the  stairs  to  Ralph's 
room.  Ralph  was  sleeping  peacefully  and  soundly;  but 
at  Cromwell's  entrance  he  roused  at  once,  true  to  his 
military  training,  with  all  his  wits  about  him. 

"  I  have  disturbed  you,  friend,"  Cromwell  began, 
"  because  I  have  matters  that  require  your  close  atten- 
tion. First,  I  require  your  promise  that  naught  which 
passes  my  lips  shall  be  repeated  elsewhere." 

"  You  have  it." 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  England?" 

"  Not  two  days." 

"Why  did  you  return?" 

Ralph  did  not  answer.  There  was  a  peremptoriness 
of  tone,  a  rough  sternness  now  about  this  man  —  old 
friend  of  his  father's  though  he  was  —  against  which 
Ralph's  soul  rebelled. 

Cromwell,  seeing  his  hesitation,  misunderstood  the 
cause. 

"  Whom  would  you  serve,"  he  added,  "  that  is  what 
I  wish  to  learn  —  the  country  or  the  king?" 

"  You  mean  the  Parliament!  " 

"  I  mean  the  people.  Came  you  here  to  aid  them  — 
to  succour  the  oppressed,  raise  the  downtrodden,  and 
humble  the  house  of  Stuart?  or  to  abase  yourself,  and 
join  the  rest  of  the  gallants  in  their  cuckoo  cry,  '  God 

55 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

save  the  king? '     Answer  me  that  question,  and  quickly. 
Time  presses.     Give  me  your  mind." 

Ralph  hesitated  still.  There  was  a  desperate  earnest- 
ness in  the  heavy  face  which  made  his  heart  beat  quickly. 
Yet  the  tone  of  authority  in  the  voice  still  jarred  against 
his  pride. 

"  I  came,  in  the  first  instance,"  he  said  slowly,  "  to 
deliver  into  your  hands  my  father's  letter.  As  to  my 
politics  —  well,  all  my  friends,  sir,  be  stout  Royalists." 

Cromwell  turned  away. 

"  Tell  me  no  more.  Nay,  not  another  word.  You 
shall  go  as  you  came,  in  peace,  being  John's  son.  But 
what  1  did  intend  to  say  hath  died  upon  my  lips.  I  had 
imagined  that  his  precepts  —  though,  God  knows,  I  am 
no  Socinian  —  might  so  have  weighed  with  you  that  we 
should  be  at  one  in  this.  But  I  will  leave  vou  to  your 
rest." 

He  had  taken  up  the  light  and  crossed  the  room,  when 
he  saw  Ralph  leap  out  of  bed  and  go  to  the  window. 

"  My  faith ! "  he  cried,  "  I  thought  I  could  not  be  mis- 
taken. There  be  the  ring  of  bridles  and  hoofs  in  the 
road;  a  troop,  I'll  swear.     Is  it  yours?  " 

Ralph's  face  was  clear  now,  his  tone  one  of  eager 
enquiry. 

"  There  be  thirty  men,"  he  went  on,  "  with  pots  and 
backs  and  breastplates,  all  complete,  by  gad!  Well 
horsed,  too,  and  disciplined.  The  man  that  drilled  those 
lads,  sir,  knew  his  business." 

He  was  all  excitement  and  animation.  The  night  was 
fine,  a  full  moon  was  shining,  and  the  troop  stood  in 
rank  across  the  road  —  a  motionless  mass  of  steel. 

"Whither  be  they  bound?" 

"  Cambridge,  to  seize  supplies  garnered  there  for  the 
king." 

"  Let  me  ride  with  you." 

Cromwell  came  slowly  back  to  him  across  the  room. 

"  Against  the  king?  " 

56 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Against  the  king." 

"Know  you  Cambridge?" 

"  I  was  at  college  there." 

"Which?" 

"  Sidney." 

"  Your  father's  and  my  own.     How  long  ago?  " 

"  Two  years." 

"  Hast  been  there  since?  You  have  friends  in  the  col- 
lege.    Are  they  well  affected?  " 

Ralph  shook  his  head.  Doctor  Taunton  had  told  him 
that  the  Fellows  of  Sidney,  headed  by  the  present  master, 
his  old  tutor,  were  declaring  for  the  king. 

Cromwell  heard  him  sigh. 

"  Mark  you,"  he  said,  "  the  issue  lies  there.  But  I 
must  to  my  men.  If  you  desire  to  come,  be  ready  when 
I  return.  Search  your  heart  and  bare  your  thoughts 
to  God.     'Tis  your  friends  or  —  your  father !  " 

He  said  the  last  two  words  as  he  went  out  of  the  door, 
and  then  Ralph  heard  his  heavy  step  descending  the 
stair  and  the  creak  of  the  front  door.  He  went  to  the 
window  again,  and  saw  the  swords  of  the  troopers  flash 
to  the  salute,  and  the  quartermaster  dismount  and  enter 
the  house. 

Some  fifteen  minutes  later  Cromwell's  step  was  upon 
the  stair  again.     He  found  Ralph  fully  dressed. 

"  Have  you  decided,  then?" 

"  I  will  go  with  you.     Let  me  get  my  horse." 

"  We  have  one  waiting.     Is  your  mind  quite  clear?  " 

"  It  has  been,  sir,  for  long  enough.  But  you  touched 
my  pride,  and  I  played  with  words.  That  is  over.  I'll 
serve  you  faithfully  as  trooper." 

Cromwell  smiled. 

"  We  welcome  thee,  my  son,  but  not  in  the  ranks.  For 
this  day  and  the  work  thereof  thou'lt  be  my  second  in 
command." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  dawn  was  breaking  when  the  troop  set  forth 
for  Cambridge.  It  was  fair  day,  and  at  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  on  a  piece  of  waste  common  land, 
were  a  busy  crowd  of  merry-jacks,  gipsy  fortune-tellers, 
and  booth-keepers,  with  grotesque  caricatures  painted 
on  their  tents  of  the  dwarfs,  giants,  strong  men,  and  fat 
women  to  be  found  inside.  The  morning  was  cloud- 
less, and  the  people  were  already  collecting  to  enjoy  their 
holiday,  as  eager  over  it  as  though  the  miseries  of  civil 
war  were  a  century  away.  Even  Cromwell's  troopers 
wondered  where  they  would  quarter  to-night,  and  pon- 
dered upon  what  excuses  they  might  make  to  get  leave 
for  a  few  hours'  pleasuring. 

The  journey  was  nearly  over.  To  the  left  were  the 
windings  of  the  Cam,  and  just  visible  among  the  trees 
the  brown  roofs  of  houses,  church  spires,  and  college 
towers.  To  the  right,  on  rising  ground,  a  massive  stone 
building  —  the  castle.  This  was  their  destination.  It 
was  used  as  an  arsenal  and  storehouse  for  the  college 
plate  in  times  of  trouble,  and  here  the  loyal  Fellows  had 
sent  silver  to  the  value  of  ten  thousand  pounds,  arms, 
and  a  magazine  of  gunpowder  for  the  service  of  the  king. 

Ralph  and  Cromwell  were  riding  together.  As  they 
turned  ofi  the  main  road  and  faced  the  castle  Cromwell 
said  abruptly:  — 

"  Think  you  it  would  stand  a  siege?  " 

Ralph  scanned  the  building  with  swift,  practised  eye 
and  laughed. 

"  Aye,  sir,  were  there  no  gunpowder.  But  to-day  — 
give  me  two  drakes,  a  dozen  rounds  of  ammunition,  a 

58 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

gunner  of  parts,  and  a  score  or  two  of  resolute  men  to 
follow  when  the  breach  was  made,  and  I  would  account 
for  that  place  before  noon." 
Cromwell  nodded. 

"  Such  busmess  is  familiar  to  you.  That  is  well,  but 
to-day  there  will  be  no  need  of  your  skill ;  I  have  a  friend 
within.  Yet  I  may  require  hard  words  of  you.  Will 
they  be  forthcoming  against  your  friends?" 

Their  eyes  met  —  Ralph's  surprised  and  half  indig- 
nant, Cromwell's  with  a  steady,  measuring  glance,  cool, 
deliberate,  calculating. 

"  I  have  passed  my  word,"  Ralph  answered  shortly. 
"  You  will  find  that  I  do  not  break  promises." 

"  I  doubt  you  not,  man,"  was  the  sharp  answer.  "  But 
have  you  heart  for  such  work?  " 

"  I  would  rather  it  were  fighting  an  enemy." 
Cromwell  frowned. 

"  The  same  story  —  ever  the  same.  This  king  and 
his  father  before  him  and  their  creatures  oppressed, 
robbed,  and  murdered  honest  men.  The  nation  cries 
out  upon  them.  Yet  the  moment  a  sword  is  raised  it  is, 
'  Our  friends  and  brothers,  touch  them  not.'  But  I  say 
no  more.  Keep  your  promise  to-day.  To-morrow  do 
what  your  conscience  and  your  heart  may  prompt. 
A'larch!" 

He  touched  his  horse  with  the  spur,  and  the  troop 
quickened  its  pace  and  swept  at  a  round  trot  up  the 
road  which  led  to  the  main  entrance  of  the  castle.  The 
grounds  were  of  considerable  extent,  and  at  intervals  a 
trooper  was  detached  to  follow  a  by-path  which  might 
lead  to  other  entrances.  His  orders  were  to  stop  all 
vehicles  coming  to  or  from  the  castle  and  examine  their 
contents.  The  castle  was  of  Norman  origin,  but  the 
old  building  had  disappeared,  and  that  which  had  been 
erected  in  its  place  —  since  crumbled  away  in  its  turn  — 
was  hardly  more  than  a  fortified  house,  its  chief  protec- 
tion a  wall  ten  feet  in  height  surrounding  it  on  all  sides, 

59 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  of  immense  thickness  and  strength.  There  was  a 
moat  beyond  the  wall,  but  it  was  half  full  of  rubbish  and 
securely  bridged  over. 

The  gates  were  closed  and  barred,  and  when  Crom- 
well demanded  admittance  the  porter  sharply  asked  his 
business. 

"  Friend,"  Cromwell  replied,  levelling  a  pistol  at  the 
man's  head,  "  that  is  not  your  affair.     Open,  or  I  fire." 

The  naan,  frightened  at  the  grim  array  of  armed  men, 
hurriedly  did  his  bidding,  and  the  troop  rode  into  a 
spacious  courtyard. 

"  Secure  him,  Reuben,"  Cromwell  said.  Then,  turn- 
ing to  Ralph,  "  I  go  to  the  governor.  I  shall  need  but 
two  men.  Dispose  the  rest  as  you  deem  fit.  Close  the 
gates  and  let  no  one  leave.  Keep  watch  on  all 
approaches.     Our  danger  lies  from  without." 

He  crossed  the  courtyard  and  went  boldly  in,  while 
Ralph  rapidly  explored  the  place  and  sent  scouts  to  ride 
round  the  walls  outside.  They  returned  shortly  to 
report  that  there  was  no  other  entrance,  and  that  no 
one  seemed  stirring.  Half  an  hour  passed  by.  Then 
one  of  the  troopers  who  had  accompanied  Cromwell 
appeared  at  a  side  door  and  beckoned. 

"  The  captain  craves  your  presence,  sir." 

Ralph  followed  the  man  along  a  dark  and  narrow 
passage  to  where  the  other  trooper,  carbine  in  hand, 
stood  on  guard  at  the  door  of  the  governor's  private 
apartments.  In  the  first  of  these  rooms  Ralph  found 
Cromwell  sipping  a  glass  of  wine  and  conversing  ami- 
cably with  an  elderly  man  of  bibulous  appearance,  in 
a  ruff  that  had  seen  better  days  and  ill-fitting  clothes 
fashioned  a  generation  ago.  This  was  Sir  Joseph 
Strangford,  the  governor  of  the  castle,  an  old  acquaint- 
ance of  the  Cromwell  family.  Ralph  was  formally  intro- 
duced, and  then  Cromwell  said  in  brief,  curt  tones :  — 

"  We  require  your  services.  The  treasure  is  here,  but 
the  key  of  the  strong-room  containing  it  is  held  by  one 

60 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Doctor  Samuel  Ward,  master  of  Sidney  College.  I 
desire  you  to  take  the  quartermaster  and  ten  picked  men 
and  demand  that  key  of  Doctor  Ward.  Doubtless  you 
are  acquainted  with  him,  and  may  be  able  to  persuade 
him  to  yield  it  to  you  civilly.  Make  your  request  in  Sir 
Joseph's  name.  But  whatever  betides " —  Cromwell 
spoke  slowly  and  distinctly  — "  return  with  the  key. 
There  is  gunpowder  in  this  chamber;  therefore  to  blow 
the  door  open  would  be  but  wanton  destruction.  Be  as 
speedy  as  you  can;  I  await  you  here." 

Ralph  withdrew  without  reply,  and  retraced  his  steps 
slowly  to  the  courtyard.  He  felt  as  if  a  weight  had  been 
placed  upon  his  shoulders  that  was  almost  more  than 
he  could  bear.  Doctor  Ward  had  been  a  severe  discipli- 
narian and  an  unsympathetic  teacher,  yet  kind  in  his 
way  when  Ralph  was  ill  once,  and  a  friend  of  his  father's. 
He  was  a  staunch  Royalist,  and  would  resist  to  the  death 
such  a  demand  as  this.  A  horrid  vision  of  being  obliged 
to  draw  his  sword  upon  the  master  haunted  Ralph's 
imagination,  and  he  shuddered  as  he  strode  through  the 
gloomy  passage.  But  once  in  the  courtyard  he  regained 
his  balance  and  nerve.  The  men  were  selected,  the 
gates  thrown  back,  and  with  Reuben  Sweetlove  at  his 
side,  he  started  briskly  off  to  do  his  duty.  Their  way 
lay  downhill,  through  narrow,  crooked  streets,  littered 
with  evil-smelling  rubbish  shot  from  the  house  windows 
with  blissful  disregard  for  all  laws  of  sanitation.  These 
windows  were  filled  with  curious  faces  as  the  steel-clad 
men  clattered  past;  and  though  they  were  but  ten  min- 
utes on  their  journey,  an  excited  rabble  of  boys  and  idlers 
collected  in  their  wake,  following  them  to  the  gates  of 
Sidney;  but  the  men  heeded  them  not.  Ralph  was  in 
grim  earnest  now,  and  his  troopers  caught  his  spirit. 
He  smiled  as  he  rode  down  the  well-remembered  street, 
over  the  familiar  cobble  stones,  past  the  overhanging 
houses,  past  Magdalene,  past  the  round  church,  and  so 
to  the  red  buildings  and  grey  walls  of  Sidney. 

61 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Within  the  gateway,  then  in  the  centre  of  the  main 
court  opposite  the  master's  lodge,  lounged  the  porter, 
round-faced  and  rubicund,  an  old  ally  of  Ralph's.  He 
stared  hard  at  the  cavalcade,  but  recognised  Ralph  with 
a  broad  grin. 

"Blessed  if  it  ain't  Master  Dangerfield!  'Slid!  but 
it's  like  old  times,  sir,  to  see  your  face.  You  have  come 
betimes,  too,  for  my  Lord  Charlton  is  here,  back  from 
the  wars  over  sea." 

Ralph's  teeth  closed  upon  his  under  lip. 

"  I  want  the  master,  Popham.     He  is  within?" 

"  Aye,  surely,  i'  the  lodge.  His  lordship's  still  in  bed, 
for  he'd  a  gay  carouse  last  night.  Wil't  breakfast  with 
him?" 

"  Not  till  I  have  seen  the  master.  Open  the  gate, 
good  Popham.  I  am  on  matters  of  urgent  public  con- 
cern.    Delay  is  dangerous.     Open!" 

The  porter  scratched  his  head  dubiously.  He  did  not 
like  the  look  of  these  men  in  bufif  and  steel.  Yet  he 
could  not  do  wrong  to  open  to  Lord  Charlton's  friend. 
There  must  be  some  rebel  plot  afoot.  These  troopers 
were  the  king's.  So  he  obeyed,  and  then  closed  them 
smartly  in  the  face  of  the  gaping  crowd.  Ralph  turned 
to  Sweetlove. 

"  Leave  half  the  men  here  on  guard.  The  rest  must 
come  with  us.  No,  Popham,"  as  the  porter  would  have 
preceded  him  to  the  lodge,  "  I  need  you  not.  Keep  to 
the  gate.     Now,  my  men." 

They  crossed  the  court,  and  from  the  windows  of  the 
students'  rooms  eager  faces  peered  down  upon  them, 
and  the  word  was  passed  through  the  college  that  sol- 
diers were  within  the  gates  and  something  untoward  was 
on  foot.  In  front  of  the  master's  house  Ralph  halted 
and  dismounted  his  men,  and  prepared  to  go  in  alone. 

■'  Hold  the  passage  and  staircase,  quartermaster,  I'll 
be  with  you  in  a  short  space." 

62 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

But  this  was  so  unprofessional  that  Reuben  entered 
a  protest. 

"  Nay,  nay,  take  us,  or  even  Sanctify,  if  you'll  not 
have  more,  he  be  the  biggest.  Go  not  by  yourself  into 
such  a  wasp's  nest.     That  is  too  rash." 

Ralph  cut  him  short. 

"  Wait,  I  say,  and  let  no  one  pass.  Keep  the  way  to 
the  gates." 

He  ran  up  the  narrow,  winding  stair,  every  turn  of 
which  he  knew  by  heart  and  knocked  at  the  master's 
door. 

"  Come  you  in,"  cried  a  well-remembered  voice,  sharp 
and  incisive,  and  Ralph  was  in  the  room. 

The  master  was  a  short,  stout  man,  with  a  strong, 
ruddy  face  —  a  man  of  determined  character  and  quick 
temper.  There  was  probably  no  one  more  respected  in 
the  University. 

"  Who  is  this?"  he  said  sharply.  "  Nay,  speak  not;  I 
see  it  is  Ralph  Dangerfield.  I  was  a  little  slow  to  know 
you.  Your  dress  is  somewhat  different  from  the  college 
gown,  and  the  years  have  changed  you,  but  no  man  I 
have  once  seen  ever  passed  me  by  unrecognised.  I  am 
glad  to  see  you  in  this  guise.  At  college  you  were 
idle,  like  your  friend  the  viscount;  but,  like  him,  you  can 
fight  though  you'll  not  work,  and  we  need  fighters.  Sit 
thee  down.  Tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing  these 
two  years  past." 

Ralph  greeted  him  respectfully. 

"Had  I  time  nothing  would  be  more  pleasant,  master; 
but  now  I  am  here  on  public  service.  I  must  request, 
in  the  name  of  Sir  Joseph  Strangford,  that  you  hand  to 
me  the  key  of  that  chamber  in  the  castle  containing 
treasure  for  the  king." 

Ralph  said  the  words  as  if  he  were  repeating  a  lesson. 
His  heart  was  at  his  throat,  his  nerves  on  edge.  Doctor 
Ward  had  always  inspired  awe  among  the  undergradu- 
ates, and  Ralph,  do  what  he  would,  found  it  impossible 

6.3 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

to  speak  with  the  confidence  which  in  such  cases  is  half 
the  battle. 

As  for  the  master,  after  staring  a  moment  in  blank 
astonishment,  he  burst  out  laughing. 

"What  say  you?  You  want  —  luJiatF  My  Certes, 
youth,  but  your  life  abroad  hath  not  mended  your  man- 
ners or  your  sense,  whatever  it  may  have  done  for  your 
body.  You  want  the  key?  For  whom?  Sir  Joseph. 
Really!  Where  be  your  warrant?  And  think  you  that 
I  am  likely  to  do  your  will?  Not  so.  No,  though  Sir 
Joseph  came  himself  and  asked  me  on  his  bended  knee. 
Once  he  had  that  key,  but  we  removed  it  into  safer  cus- 
tody.    There  it  will  remain." 

He  laughed  so  disagreeably  that  the  blood  came  surg- 
ing back  into  Ralph's  face  with  a  vengeance,  and  his 
spirits  rose. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  extreme  urgency,  or  I'd  not  have 
troubled  you,"  he  began,  when  the  master  interrupted 
him. 

"  Nay,  nay,  most  gallant  sir,  stoop  not  to  apologise  to 
me,  nor  even  to  explain.  Urgent,  is  it?  My  faith,  delay 
not  then  an  instant.  Back  to  Sir  Joseph  and  present 
my  compliments.  Tell  him  that  I,  Samuel  Ward,  his 
most  humble  servant  to  command,  do  refuse  now,  and 
at  any  time,  to  give  to  him  or  any  messenger  of  his,  with 
or  without  a  written  letter,  that  key  entrusted  to  my  care 
by  his  superiors.  So  bear  him  that  message,  and  God 
keep  you,  Ralph,  for  a  pretty-looking  fellow  and  a  block- 
head.    Fare  you  well." 

He  waved  his  hand  contemptuously,  and  took  up  a 
pen  as  if  to  continue  a  letter  he  had  been  writing.  Ralph 
stepped  close  to  his  side. 

"  The  key,  master,  and  quickly,  or  I  take  it.  I  pray 
you,  spare  me  the  need  of  violence." 

He  watched  the  old  man's  eyes.  It  had  suddenly 
occurred  to  him  that  the  identification  of  the  key  might 
be  difficult.     At  that  moment,  however,  Doctor  Ward 

64 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

made  a  snatch  at  a  bunch  that  was  hanging  from  his 
desk  and  thrust  it  into  his  gown. 

"Stand  back!  Leave  my  room!"  he  cried.  "What 
art  thou,  then,  some  vile  emissary  from  the  rebel  Parlia- 
ment? Aye,  I  see  it  from  your  eye.  Get  you  hence,  or 
I  will  have  ye  thrust  in  prison." 

He  spoke  in  loud  tones,  glancing  at  a  door  opposite 
to  the  one  by  which  Ralph  had  entered,  as  if  he  expected 
assistance  there.  No  time  was  to  be  lost,  and  Ralph 
closed  with  him,  caught  the  hand  which  held  the  keys, 
wrenched  them  from  him,  and  tripping  the  old  gentle- 
man up,  laid  him  as  gently  as  he  could  upon  the  floor. 
All  this  was  easy,  for  the  master  was  but  a  child  in 
Ralph's  powerful  hands;  yet  he  struggled  so  gallantly, 
and  Ralph  was  so  anxious  not  to  hurt  him,  that  it  was 
some  minutes  before  he  could  dispose  of  him,  and  ere 
he  had  time  to  retreat  to  the  outer  door  three  men 
rushed  in  from  the  inner  one  with  drawn  swords. 

"Seize  him!  kill  him!"  panted  the  master.  "A  spy 
from  the  Parliament!  Bring  him  down  in  the  king's 
name! " 

It  was  three  to  one,  and  Ralph's  assailants  were  strong 
and  active;  moreover,  one  at  least  was  a  soldier,  for  as 
Ralph  drew  his  sword  and  faced  them,  backing  towards 
the  door,  this  man  said  quietly:  — 

"  Round  that  table.  Vavasour,  and  cut  him  off.  Gre- 
ville,  advance  briskly.  We  have  him  in  a  clutch.  Now, 
you  crop-eared  rebel Good  God!  'tis  Ralph!" 

It  was  Lord  Charlton.  As  he  recognised  his  friend 
he  lowered  the  point  of  his  sword  and  laughed. 

"  Master,  you  are  under  some  mistake.  Gad,  com- 
rade Ralph,  what  game  are  you  playing  upon  him?  You 
should  be  past  such  jokes  at  your  age,  the  times  are  too 
serious.  Com.e  along  and  breakfast  with  me,  and  leave 
the  doctor  to  his  books." 

He  made  a  motion  as  if  to  sheath  his  sword,  but  there 
was  an  anxious  look  in  his  eyes  which  beHed  the  confi- 
5  65 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

dence  of  his  words.  Ralph  winced,  his  mouth  drawn 
with  pain. 

"  Nay,  Charlton,  the  master  is  under  no  mistake 
respecting-  my  politics;  I  am  for  the  Parliament." 

He  made  an  advance  toward  the  door,  while  Charlton 
breathed  hard,  and  looked  into  his  eyes  as  men  gaze 
into  the  face  of  one  who  is  dead. 

"  Then,  by  God,  man,"  he  cried  in  a  thick,  strained 
voice,  "stay  where  you  are!  Thrust  upon  him,  Greville, 
if  he  stirs  a  step.  No  rebel  leaves  this  chamber  without 
the  master's  leave." 

Ralph's  reply  was  to  spring  forward,  and  with  a  quick 
and  skilful  twist  of  the  wrist  send  the  sword  of  the  man 
nearest  to  him  flying  from  his  hand,  wounding  him  in 
the  arm.  The  second  man  he  struck  over  the  shoulder 
and  hurled  aside,  and  then  he  was  face  to  face  with 
Charlton. 

One  instant  they  stood  almost  motionless,  watching; 
and  then  they  closed,  and  the  others  looked  on  calmly. 
It  was  too  well  matched  a  strife  for  interference  the 
young  men  thought,  and  Doctor  Ward,  a  man  of  peace, 
cowered  and  kept  still.  But  it  was  deadly.  With  the 
flash  of  steel  the  devil  of  the  men  awoke,  and  both  had 
plenty  of  it.  One  minute  passed,  two,  and  Charlton's 
neck  was  bleeding  from  a  deep  and  ugly  dash.  In  three 
minutes  Ralph's  doublet  was  torn,  and  there  were  red 
stains  upon  his  shirt.  Four  —  a  hand  on  the  door  out- 
side now,  a  heavy,  masterful  hand.  It  had  been  locked 
within.  Crash!  A  man's  shoulder  came  against  it,  and 
the  lock  gave  way.  In  a  moment  the  room  was  full  of 
troopers,  and  Charlton's  sword  was  struck  to  the  ground 
by  Sweetlove.  The  quartermaster  raised  his  weapon  to 
strike  again,  for  he  saw  the  blood  upon  Ralph's  breast; 
but  Ralph  stopped  him. 

"  Do  him  no  harm,  on  your  life;  he  is  my  friend." 

"A  lie!"  exclaimed  Charlton,  folding  his  arms,  as  he 
saw  that  resistance  was  useless.     "  The  man  I  loved  was 

66 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  loyal  subject  of  the  king.  You  are  a  traitor.  I  would 
have  killed  you,  so  help  me  God!  " 

Sweetlove  laughed  loudly.     His  blood  had  risen  too. 

"Would  ye  now!  Ye  would?  Then  curse  you  for 
a  whelp  who'd  bite  the  hand  that  'ud  free  ye  from  the 
chain  your  master  buckled  on.  Ye're  both  whelps, 
flinching  from  blood  as  wenches  run  from  mice.  Bah, 
lieutenant,  ye've  not  cut  your  milk-teeth  yet;  ye  must 
have  slept  in  Deuschland.  Let  me  take  this  cockerel  at 
his  word  and  rip  him  up.     He  bears  you  no  goodwill." 

Ralph  made  an  impatient  movement  with  his  hand. 

"  Hold  your  peace,  quartermaster,  and  obey  my  order. 
Disarm  these  gentlemen,  then  leave  them  in  this  room. 
We  take  no  prisoners,  and  make  no  delay." 

Ralph  was  pale  and  collected  now,  and  took  no  appa- 
rent notice  of  Charlton's  words.  In  a  few  minutes  they 
were  in  the  court,  passing  down  the  path  between  the 
rows  of  poplars.  A  score  of  students  had  gathered  in 
the  court,  and  hooted  the  soldiers  vigorously,  but  there 
was  an  ugly  look  about  these  grim  men  in  steel  caps  that 
discouraged  any  attack.  Besides,  no  one  knew  precisely 
what  they  had  done.  So  they  were  allowed  to  depart 
without  opposition,  and  to  Reuben's  unspeakable  dis- 
gust regained  the  castle  without  adventure.  Cromwell 
was  in  the  courtyard,  and  Ralph's  sore  heart,  sorer  than 
he  knew  at  the  time,  found  comfort  in  his  greeting. 

"  Your  work  done?  Then  you  have  saved  many  a 
hundred  lives.  I  hear  there  are  arms  and  munition  eno' 
to  equip  a  regiment  of  musketeers.  Now  to  load  our 
prize  in  carts  and  waggons,  and  then  to  London  with  it." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  Cromwell  household  rose  late  the  day  the  troop 
went  to  Cambridge,  and  breakfast  was  not  until 
seven,  an  hour  after  the  usual  time. 

The  Reverend  Isaac  Hepworth  read  the  Scriptures 
and  ofifered  up  prayers,  and  Rachel  Fullerton,  in  the 
absence  of  Mrs.  Cromwell,  who  was  unwell,  presided  at 
table. 

Rachel  looked  old  for  her  eighteen  years.  She  was 
slightly  made,  with  brown  eyes,  and  a  great  deal  of  soft, 
dark  hair,  brushed  severely  back,  according  to  the  pre- 
vailing Puritan  fashion,  showing  to  advantage  a  square, 
white  forehead.  Her  features  were  irregular,  her  com- 
plexion inclined  to  freckles;  but  her  figure,  though 
below  the  usual  height  of  women,  was  well  formed  and 
graceful  —  a  girl  of  quiet  manner  and  of  unobtrusive 
ways,  much  inclined  to  silence,  whom  most  people 
thought  rather  insignificant,  especially  when  compared 
to  Bridget  Cromwell,  the  eldest  daughter.  A  few,  and 
those  who  knew  her  best,  said  that  this  quietude  was 
deceptive,  and  that  Rachel  could  turn  the  whole  family 
round  the  smallest  of  her  fingers  when  she  chose  to  try. 
Even  her  admirers,  however,  were  fain  to  own  that  few 
things  were  more  difficult  than  to  find  out  what  Rachel 
thought  or  felt. 

This  had  always  been  so.  In  her  childhood  Rachel 
had  been  a  solemn  little  creature,  with  great  melancholy 
eyes  and  quaint,  grown-up  manners,  shrinking  from 
caresses  and  notice,  rarely  naughty,  always  quiet  and 
still,  an  enigma  to  her  nurse  and  a  severe  trial  to  her 
mother.     Mrs.   Fullerton   was   a   well-meaning   woman, 

68 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

extremely  energetic  and  outspoken,  but  unsympathetic 
and  lacking  in  perception.  This  silent  little  daughter,  so 
different  from  ordinary  children,  was  beyond  her  ken. 
She  came  very  early  to  the  conclusion  that  the  child  had 
no  heart,  and  after  more  or  less  spasmodic  attempts  to 
gain  her  confidence,  gave  it  up,  and  let  her  go  her  own 
way.  This  was  a  mistake.  Rachel's  doll  —  a  dreadful 
piece  of  wood,  heavy  as  a  club,  with  round,  grinning 
head  splashed  with  red  paint,  and  insufficiently  clothed 
in  a  rag  of  blue  calico  —  could  have  told  her  things 
which  would  have  astounded  her.  Many  a  time,  after  a 
day  during  which  she  had  scarcely  spoken  a  word  to 
her  mother,  Rachel  had  cried  herself  to  sleep  with  Doro- 
thea in  her  arms,  kissing  its  ugly  face  with  passionate 
affection,  and  telling  it  between  her  sobs  that  no  one 
else  loved  her,  or  would  ever  love  her,  in  the  whole  world. 
The  life  of  an  only  child  in  a  strict  Puritan  household 
—  Thomas  Fullerton  was  an  elder  of  a  Presbyterian 
church  —  was  dreary  and  monotonous  to  a  degree  diffi- 
cult to  realise  at  the  present  time.  Lessons  —  very  dull 
ones  —  sewing,  and  housework  filled  the  whole  day. 
Rachel's  only  exercise  was  a  daily  walk  with  her  govern- 
ess—  a  poor  relation  of  her  father's  —  a  sour  old  maid; 
her  only  pleasure  playing  with  her  doll.  It  was  Doro- 
thea, she  used  to  say,  when  in  happier  days  she  displayed 
it  to  children  of  her  own,  which  kept  her  alive.  All  her 
griefs  and  troubles  and  difficulties  were  told  to  the  doll, 
discussed  with  it,  and  submitted  to  its  judgment,  which, 
like  many  a  human  being's,  reflected  another's,  and  was, 
perhaps,  none  the  worse  for  that.  All  the  wealth  of 
lovingness  that  was  in  her  the  child  poured  upon  Doro- 
thea. To  her  mother  she  was,  on  the  whole,  dutiful  and 
obedient;  and  she  gave  her  governess  little  trouble,  being 
naturally  cjuick  at  learning;  but  her  love  was  for  Doro- 
thea, and  Dorothea  alone.  She  seldom  saw  her  father. 
He  was  a  taciturn,  reserved  man,  very  conscientious, 
very  strict,  very  cold  in  manner.     A  London  merchant, 

69 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

by  hard  work  and  shrewdness  he  had  made  a  large  for- 
tune, a  considerable  portion  of  which  he  spent  upon  his 
church,  and  still  more,  anonymously,  among  the  poor, 
living  himself  in  plainest  fashion.  He  was  widely 
respected,  but  loved  by  few  and  feared  by  many,  his  wife 
amongst  others. 

As  Rachel  began  life  so  she  grew  up  until  her  fifteenth 
year.  Then  came  a  change.  Mrs.  Fullerton  fell  sick 
and  died  after  a  short  illness.  It  was  feared  that  the  dis- 
ease was  infectious,  and  Rachel  was  only  allowed  to  see 
her  mother  once  just  before  her  death.  The  dying 
woman  blessed  her,  and  then  gave  a  hopeless  sigh  as  she 
looked  in  vain  for  tears  on  the  set,  white  face. 

"  Be  good,"  she  cried  hoarsely,  "  and  oh,  child,  child, 
be  loving!     Cherish  thy  father,  he  has  only  thee." 

She  ended  with  a  burst  of  hysterical  sobs,  and  Rachel 
was  hurried  away  and  not  allowed  to  enter  the  sick 
chamber  again.  When  all  was  over  Mr.  Fullerton  went 
himself  to  break  the  news,  and  the  sight  of  his  haggard, 
stricken  face,  the  sound  of  his  voice,  tender  and  gentle 
for  the  first  time,  swept  away  all  the  reserve  and  awe 
which  the  long  years  of  repression  had  wrought  in  his 
daughter's  heart,  and  with  a  low,  inarticulate  cry  Rachel 
ran  to  him  and  sobbed  her  heart  out  upon  his  breast. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  a  new  life  for  both  of  them, 
for  Thomas  Fullerton,  too,  had  a  heart  under  his  reserve. 
All  his  leisure  hours  were  spent  in  his  daughter's  com- 
pany, while  Rachel,  from  a  timid,  retiring  girl,  in  a  few 
months  quietly  emancipated  herself  from  governess 
control,  and,  young  as  she  was,  became  mistress  of  her 
father's  house.  Two  years  passed  —  happy,  peaceful 
years  —  and  then  came  the  darkest  hours  of  Rachel's 
life.  To  the  last  she  could  not  bear  to  speak  of  that 
terrible  time.  Wealth  was  a  dangerous  possession  for  a 
determined  man,  bound  by  the  strongest  ties  to  a  perse- 
cuted religious  sect  and  a  political  party  which  the  reign- 
ing powers  spared  no  pains  to  crush.     It  was  the  time 

70 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

of  "  ship-moneys,"  and  monopolies,  and  the  hundred  and 
one  miserable  subterfuges  by  which  Charles  raised  sub- 
sidies behind  his  people's  back.  Every  class  of  the  com- 
munity suffered,  but  the  London  poor  suffered  the  most, 
and  in  the  welfare  of  his  workpeople  Thomas  Fullerton's 
heart  was  bound  up.  At  first,  like  John  Hampden,  he 
disputed  in  his  own  person  the  illegal  taxes.  He  lost 
his  case  and  was  heavily  fined.  He  refused  to  pay  the 
fine,  and  was  sentenced  to  imprisonment.  He  served  his 
time,  but  upon  his  release  deliberately  broke  the  law 
again;  a  warrant  was  then  issued  for  his  immediate 
arrest,  but  he  could  not  be  found.  His  house  had  been 
given  up,  his  effects  sold,  and  his  daughter  sent  to  her 
uncle,  Isaac  Hepworth,  then  living  in  Kensington  vil- 
lage. It  was  reported  that  Mr.  Fullerton  had  gone 
abroad,  and  the  chase  ceased.  Soon  after  this,  however, 
the  custom-house  officers  discovered  that  large  quanti- 
ties of  soap  and  salt  and  other  necessaries  upon  which  a 
heavy  tax  had  been  placed  —  to  fill  the  pockets  of  the 
queen's  favourites,  it  was  said  —  were  being  imported 
secretly  from  abroad  and  sold  at  cheap  rates  to  the  poor 
of  London.  Spies  were  set  to  work,  rewards  offered 
and  at  last  treachery  did  the  rest.  Thomas  Fullerton 
was  found  to  be  the  culprit,  and  was  taken  by  the  sheriff's 
officers  in  Hepworth's  house.  He  was  warned  at  the  last 
moment,  sprang  through  a  window,  and  mounted  his 
horse,  but  was  shot  through  the  spine,  and  brought  in 
mortally  wounded.  It  was  a  sign  of  the  respect  that  was 
felt  for  him  that  the  man  who  had  shot  him  was  the  first 
to  go  for  a  chircurgeon,  and  that  afterwards  a  large 
portion  of  his  fortune  was  saved  for  Rachel.  To  the 
girl  herself  these  things  were  of  no  importance  at  the 
time.  At  one  blow  the  chief  joy  of  her  life  was  crushed, 
the  only  friend  she  had  —  father,  mother,  brother,  and 
sister  all  in  one  —  was  taken  from  her.  She  was  scarcely 
herself  for  many  weeks.  By  an  extraordinary  effort  of 
control   she   preserved   a   calm   appearance   before   her 

71 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

uncle,  with  whom  she  was  to  Hve  in  future;  but  alone  in 
her  chamber  she  gave  way  to  passionate  outbursts  of 
hopeless  grief,  and  prayed  earnestly  that  she  might  die. 

Her  father's  will,  duly  executed,  left  the  whole  of  his 
property  to  her,  and  appointed  as  her  guardians  "  My 
brother,  Isaac  Hepworth,  and  my  trusty  friend,  Oliver 
Cromwell."  Until  she  was  two-and-twenty  years  of  age 
her  guardians  were  to  possess  full  control  over  her  per- 
son, and  she  was  not  to  marry  without  their  full  consent. 
Her  uncle  was  sole  executor  —  to  receive  the  interest  of 
her  fortune  until  she  was  of  age,  and  to  be  responsible 
for  her  maintenance.  Surprise  was  expressed  by  many, 
and  deeply  felt  by  Hepworth,  that  a  second  guardian 
should  have  been  appointed  at  all;  but  the  lawyers  told 
him  that  the  will  was  carefully  and  exactly  worded,  and 
admitted  of  no  dispute.  To  Rachel  it  was  a  matter  of 
complete  indifiference;  she  had  never  seen  Mr.  Cromwell, 
and  he  readily  agreed  to  leave  her  with  her  uncle.  A 
year  went  by,  and  then  one  day  this  Mr.  Cromwell 
appeared  unexpectedly  at  Kensington,  and  was  closeted 
for  some  hours  alone  with  Isaac  Hepworth.  Cromwell 
came  in  answer  to  a  letter  he  had  received  from  an  old 
family  friend,  who  in  blunt  terms  informed  him  that  the 
loneliness  of  the  girl's  life  was  destroying  her  health, 
and  that  she  was  in  the  first  stage  of  a  decline.  The 
same  thing  had  been  said  still  more  forcibly  to  Isaac 
Hepworth;  but  that  good  m.an,  who  had  found  Rachel 
a  very  patient  listener  to  his  sermons,  and  a  model  house- 
keeper, had  refused  to  believe  it.  The  appeal  to  Crom- 
well was  not  in  vain.  What  passed  between  him  and 
her  uncle  Rachel  never  knew;  but  when  he  returned  to 
Ely  she  went  with  him,  and  never  saw  her  uncle's  house 
again. 

At  Ely  Rachel  entered  upon  a  new  world.  She  had 
never  before  seen  family  life,  and  never  mixed,  except 
on  rare  intervals,  with  young  people  of  her  own  age, 
All  was  changed  now.     The  Cromwells  were  a  lively, 

72 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

energetic  brood.  There  was  Oliver,  a  youth  of  eighteen, 
with  arms  and  legs  too  long  for  him,  and  a  propensity 
for  teasing,  not  in  the  gentlest  manner,  which  caused 
Rachel  much  inward  annoyance,  and  even  trepidation, 
yet  a  good-natured,  honest  lad,  with  a  ringing  laugh,  and 
merry  word  for  all.  Bridget  came  next,  three  months 
Rachel's  junior  —  a  clever,  handsome  girl,  twice  Rachel's 
size,  talkative,  and  full  of  self-assertion,  sharp-tongued 
when  she  did  not  giggle,  and  inclined  to  put  on  airs 
in  the  presence  of  men.  Rachel  did  not  find  Bridget 
easy  to  get  on  with.  The  boys  came  next  —  Dick  and 
Henry.  In  their  holidays  —  for  they  were  at  a  board- 
ing-school in  Felstead,  Essex  —  Rachel  was  a  second 
mother  to  them.  She  mended  their  clothes  when  they 
burst  at  awkward  times  and  in  awkward  places,  as  boys' 
clothes  will;  she  lent  them  pocket-money,  which  Henry 
repaid  and  Dick  did  not;  and  when  they  got  into  scrapes, 
she  acted  as  mediator  between  them  and  their  father. 
But  it  was  Betty,  the  thirteen-year-old,  who  loved  Rachel 
best.  Betty  was  what  Oliver  called  the  family  scourge 
until  Rachel  came  to  Ely.  As  a  little  thing  she  had 
been  the  youngest,  and  as  such  was  over-petted  and 
caressed  by  her  mother;  and  being  a  precocious  child, 
with  a  masterful  will,  had  been  very  much  spoiled.  But 
at  eight  years  old  she  was  dethroned  by  a  baby  sister, 
and  then  trouble  began;  and  the  model  daughter,  who 
Mrs.  Cromwell  had  assured  all  her  friends  was  of  the 
sweetest  disposition  and  most  perfect  temper,  suddenly 
developed  almost  every  sin  known  to  childhood.  She 
was  jealous,  she  was  violent,  she  was  cruel;  she  slapped 
and  pinched  the  baby  which  had  ousted  her  from  power, 
she  defied  the  nurse  to  whose  care  she  was  now  left,  she 
stole  the  dainties  which  used  to  be  hers  by  right,  she 
fought  like  a  small  tiger  with  Bridget  when  that  young 
person  began  to  assert  the  privileges  of  superior  age;  she 
became  mischievous  and  cross  beyond  endurance,  driving 
the  servants  to  despair,  and  causing  the  more  super- 

73 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

stitious  of  them  to  shake  their  heads  and  mutter  "change- 
ling," and  tell  gruesome  stories  of  the  fairies  of  the  fens. 
In  her  father's  presence  alone  was  Betty  her  old  self,  and 
threats  of  a  punishment  from  him  was  the  only  effective 
check  upon  her  the  household  possessed.  But  when  the 
times  became  anxious,  and  Cromwell's  parliamentary 
labours  more  severe,  even  that  remedy  failed,  and  then 
they  were  at  their  wits'  end. 

Into  this  confusion  and  chaos  Rachel  brought  order 
and  peace.  Betty  fell  in  love  with  the  white-faced  girl 
with  her  large,  sad  eyes. 

"  You  be  so  different  from  Bridget,"  the  child  said 
confidentially.  "  You  are  so  quiet  and  gentle,  while  she 
is  always  talking  —  of  herself.  You  are  a  dear,  and  you 
will  not  preach  me  sermons,  will  you?  Nurse  said  you 
would  do  little  else,  because  your  uncle  was  a  Presbyter. 
But  nurse  would  love  to  make  me  afeared  of  you  if  she 
only   could." 

Rachel  did  not  preach  sermons,  but  from  the  first  she 
began  to  correct  Miss  Betty's  wilfulness  and  slap-dash 
ways.  Rachel  was  of  well-ordered  mind  and  dainty 
nature,  and  Betty's  habits  —  frocks  and  stockings  always 
in  holes,  hands  seldom  clean,  hair  never  brushed  — 
shocked  her  terribly,  and  with  the  unmercifulness  of 
youth  she  criticised  Mrs.  Cromwell  severely  in  her  own 
mind  for  neglect.  Later  on  she  recognised  the  multi- 
plicity of  cares  and  duties  which  weigh  upon  a  mother 
with  a  large  family  of  children  of  all  ages,  especially  when 
she  is  far  from  strong,  and  from  the  first  day  Rachel  set 
quickly  to  work  to  lighten  the  load.  An  improvement  in 
Betty  began  almost  immediately.  Like  most  wilful  peo- 
ple, when  taken  the  right  way  she  was  docility  itself, 
and  could  be  led  by  a  thread  of  silk  where  ropes  would 
not  have  dragged  her.  Nor  was  the  advantage  all  on 
one  side.  Betty's  outspokenness  and,  to  put  it  mildly, 
absence  of  awe  of  her  elders  were  a  revelation  to  Rachel, 
and  drew  her  out  of  the  reserve  which  the  grief  at  her 

74 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

father's  death  and  the  companionship  of  her  uncle  had 
brought  again  into  her  nature;  while  the  effort  of  will 
and  thought  necessary  to  control  and  manage  the  unruly- 
little  personage  roused  her  from  the  lassitude  of  mind 
and  body  into  which  she  had  been  sinking;  and  slowly 
but  surely  her  health  improved,  the  natural  activity  of 
her  brain  reasserted  itself,  and  all  danger  of  a  decline 
passed  away. 

Rachel  led  a  busy  life,  full  of  other  people's  business. 
If  anyone  was  ill  she  nursed  them.  Thanks  to  her  father, 
she  had  received  a  sound  education,  and  by  Cromwell's 
special  request  undertook  the  duties  of  governess  to 
Betty.  She  taught  Bridget  fine  sewing,  gave  an  eye 
to  the  babies  when  Mrs.  Cromwell  was  unwell,  and  last, 
but  not  least  by  any  means,  spent  a  part  of  each  day  as 
companion  to  Madam  Cromwell  —  Cromwell's  mother. 
This  old  lady  lived  with  her  son  in  rooms  especially 
reserved  for  her  use.  Once  a  day,  when  dinner  was 
served,  she  appeared  at  the  family  table,  at  her  son's 
right  hand.  At  other  times  she  kept  to  her  own  apart- 
ments, receiving  there  any  of  the  household  who  required 
her  counsel  or  chose  to  bear  her  company.  Rachel  soon 
became  a  regular  visitor,  and  as  time  went  on  spent  all 
her  leisure  hours  there,  until  it  became  a  habit  of  every- 
one in  the  house  to  run  at  once  to  Madam  Cromwell's 
room  when  they  wanted  Rachel.  If  she  were  not  there 
the  old  lady  generally  knew  where  she  could  be  found. 
It  was  Rachel's  custom  to  go  up  directly  after  breakfast 
and  read  aloud  the  Scriptures  for  half  an  hour.  Madam 
Cromwell  said  it  was  an  act  of  mercy,  as  reading  tried 
her  eyes.  Perhaps  the  sound  of  the  fresh  young  voice 
—  for  Rachel  had  a  very  sweet  one  —  and  the  company 
of  youth  had  more  to  do  with  it  than  failing  sight. 
Madam  Cromwell's  life,  though  she  never  allowed  it,  was 
a  very  lonely  one. 

The  day  after  Ralph's  arrival  the  old  lady  awaited 
Rachel's  morning  visit  with  even  more  than  her  us-:;! 

75 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

anticipation,  and  Rachel  noticed  that  the  Bible  was  not 
upon  the  table. 

"  Ah,  my  girlie,"  the  old  lady  cried,  "  late  to-day  — 
late  a  full  hour,  and  just  when  I  had  wished  you  should 
be  early.  Nay,  nay,  do  not  answer.  I  know  without 
telling  that  thou  hast  good  reason.  Now,  before  thou 
gettest  the  book,  tell  me  where  is  the  young  man?  " 

Madam  Cromwell  had  a  large,  pleasant  face,  set  in  firm, 
strong  lines.  Her  son  inherited  from  her  his  massive 
chin  and  broad  forehead,  the  grey  eyes  and  the  slight 
pout  of  the  under  lip;  but  her  features  were  finer  than 
his,  and  the  eyes  smaller  and  more  animated.  Even  in 
her  severest  moods  —  and  as  all  the  family  knew  to  their 
cost  she  could  be  terribly  severe  —  there  was  ever  the 
suggestion  of  a  humorous  gleam  in  those  searching  eyes. 
An  old  lady  of  great  presence,  upright  as  a  dart,  dressed 
with  the  severe  simplicity  of  an  earlier  generation,  a  black 
kerchief  of  net-point  around  her  head,  a  chemisette  of 
spotless  linen  falling  to  the  shoulders,  and  a  grey  dress 
of  serviceable  woollen  material. 

"  He  has  gone,"  Rachel  began,  in  answer  to  her  ques- 
tion, when  Madam  Cromwell  interrupted  her  in  a  tone 
of  keen  disappointment, 

"Gone!  Did  thy  uncle's  words  bite  so  shrewdly, 
then?" 

"  No,  no.  I  mean  he  has  gone  with  the  troop  to 
Cambridge." 

Madam  Cromwell  gave  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  That  is  good  news.  I  was  afraid  it  might  be  other- 
wise. I  remember,  when  he  was  a  little  fellow,  his  father 
telling  me  he  was  the  image  of  the  captain,  his  grand- 
father, and  he,  like  all  the  Dangerfields,  was  a  man  of 
very  warm  temper  and  high  spirit.  I  shall  see  the  lad, 
then,  presently.  Now  tell  me  what  he  is  like.  Didst 
note  his  looks?    Tell  me,  little  one." 

Rachel  smiled,  for  the  old  lady's  tone  was  as  eager  as 
a  girl's, 

76 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  He  is  handsome,  granny,  dark-complexioned,  with 
bright  eyes,  and  he  carries  his  head  high  —  a  gentleman 
of  very  fine  appearance;  I  should  think  —  you  will  chide 
me  for  vain  thoughts  —  he  is  one  who  has  been  more 
used  to  ruffle  it  at  Court  than  among  quiet  folk.  Yet  I 
liked  him,"  Rachel  went  on  reflectively.  "  His  eyes  are 
honest,  though  a  little  proud ;  but  his  mouth  —  I  do  not 
like  his  mouth.  It  is  of  fierce  expression,  the  corners  of 
the  lips  turned  downwards,  and  when  he  spoke  to  my 
uncle  he  set  his  teeth  like  an  angry  ban-dog,  and  the 
words  came  from  between  them  as  if  he  would  have  bitten 
him." 

"  Thou  hast  a  quick  eye,  Rachel  mine,  and  a  power 
of  expressing  thy  thoughts  which  give  me  quite  a  picture 
of  the  youth.  They  did  well  to  name  him  Ralph.  His 
grandfather  had  just  such  a  habit  of  speech.  Truly,  when 
I  see  the  lad,  I  shall  feel  quite  young  again.  But  be  not 
too  hasty  in  thy  judgments.  A  man  had  better  be  too 
hard  than  too  soft.  A  ban-dog  you  said?  Well,  a  ban- 
dog is  a  trusty  brute  —  savage  with  his  foes,  but  of  noble 
nature  when  well  bred.     So  you  like  him  not?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  so  much  as  that.  I  have  taken  little 
thought  of  him  as  yet.  You  should  ask  Betty," —  Rachel 
laughed  — "  she  can  talk  of  nothing  else." 

"  A  very  froward  puss,"  Madam  Cromwell  said 
severely.  "Thou  must  discourage  her,  Rachel.  It  is 
not  becoming  that  any  girl,  even  though  young,  should 
express  such  thoughts.  In  my  day  she  would  be  severely 
trounced  and  put  on  bread  and  water  for  a  day  had  she 
dared  to  mention  the  young  man's  name  familiarly.  But, 
child,  what  hast  been  doing  with  thyself?  Now  that  the 
light  falls  upon  thy  face  I  see  pale  cheeks  and  tired  eyes. 
Is  it  lack  of  sleep  last  night  —  or  what?  Why  should  it 
be?" 

At  this  sharp  personal  question  Rachel  blushed  scar- 
let, fearing  that  in  Madam  Cromwell's  present  mood  she 
would  receive  a  severe  reproof  for  her  midnight  labours, 

77 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  she  hesitated  a  moment  before  she  answered,  at 
which  the  old  lady  muttered  beneath  her  breath,  "  What, 
can  it  be  that  the  handsome  face  hath  touched  her  heart? 
Heaven  forfend!  "  Then  Rachel  found  her  tongue,  and 
Madam  Cromwell's  fears  were  allayed,  and  to  the  girl's 
infinite  relief  the  old  lady  gave  the  incident  her  heartiest 
approval. 

"  Thou  art  a  noble  child.  But,  indeed,  thou'rt  highly 
honoured,  though  I,  his  mother,  say  it.  I  know  no 
other  woman,  young  or  old,  he  would  have  treated  with 
such  confidence;  but  there,  we  all  trust  thee,  aye,  and  lean 
on  thy  young  shoulders.  When  thy  time  comes,  as 
come  it  must,  though  I  trust  the  day  be  far  distant,  when 
thou  are  sought  in  marriage,  what  wealth  thy  husband 
will  find  in  thee!  He  should  be  no  ordinary  man.  See 
to  it  thou  choosest  wisely." 

Rachel  gave  a  merry  laugh. 

"  I  will  not  choose  at  all,  granny.  I  shall  send  the 
gentleman  to  you  when  he  comes,  then  to  my  guardian. 
If  you  both  approve  him  then  I  will  be  his  wife,  not 
otherwise." 

Madam  Cromwell  shook  her  head. 

"  What,  still  a  child?  Yet  there  is  a  woman  in  thy 
face.  Nay,  nay,  no  one,  not  even  my  own  son,  with 
all  his  powerful  will,  shall  take  thy  heart  and  give  it 
where  he  lists.     The  choice  will  be  thine  own,  little  one. 

God  grant  it  be  worthy.     No  one  I  have  seen  yet 

Betty,  what  means  this?  " 

The  door  had  opened  suddenly  without  the  ordinary 
preliminary  knock,  and  Betty,  flushed  and  excited, 
peeped  in  with  an  anxious  face. 

"  Is  Rachel  here?  Oh,  Rachel,  come  with  me.  I 
have  been  looking  everywhere  for  you;  do  not  delay.  I 
promised  him  many  minutes  since;  he  is  in  the  hall. 
Hark!  you  can  hear  the  jangle  of  his  spurs  —  such  big 
ones;  and  such  beautiful  armour  hath  he,  bought  only 
yesterday.     But  I  must  not  stay.     Grandmamma  —  oh! 

78 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

—  yes  —  I  —  I  crave  your  pardon ;  but  you  see,  I  wanted 
Rachel,  and  I  forgot,  indeed  I  did." 

"  Grandchild  Elizabeth,"  the  old  lady  said  in  an  awful 
voice,  though  Rachel  saw  the  keen  eyes  twinkling,  "  how 
shall  I  make  thee  understand  that  before  thou  comest 
into  my  apartment  thou  must  knock  for  admittance?  " 

She  paused,  then  in  a  tone  deeper  still:  — 

"Who  is  below?" 

"  Oliver,  an'  it  please  you,  ma'am." 

"  He  is  asking  for  Rachel?  " 

"He  is  indeed,  and  —  please,  may  we  go?  He  is  so 
impatient,  and  will  be  so  wroth  with  me.  You  see,  I 
promised,  and  —  I  am  very  sorry.  I  will  never,  never 
so  ofifend  again." 

She  spoke  in  soft,  entreating  tones,  and  tears  came  into 
her  eyes.  Yet  she  did  not  move.  No  one,  not  even 
Betty,  disobeyed  Madam  Cromwell  in  her  own  room. 
The  old  lady  softened. 

"  Go,  children,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  Betty,  you  must 
return  presently;  I  shall  require  you  to  read  to  me  this 
morning  for  an  hour.     Be  not  long  away." 

The  girls  left  the  room  demurely,  but  Madam  Crom- 
well heard  them  run  downstairs  like  kittens.  She 
smiled,  then  sighed. 

"Was  it  in  answer  to  my  thoughts  —  Oliver?  Per- 
haps. He  is  a  good  lad;  not  worthy  yet,  but  young,  and 
the  times  that  are  upon  us  will  be  like  to  make  a  man 
of  him." 


CHAPTER  IX 

AS  the  girls  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  a  young 
man  swung  up  to  meet  them. 

"  Have  you  come  at  last,  then,  Rachel?  Faith,  I  began 
to  wonder  whether  Betsy  Bunting  was  cozening  me  when 
she  said  you  were  in  the  house.  But  save  us!  What  is 
this?     Hoity-toity!  how  we  are  changed!  " 

He  had  held  out  his  arms  to  receive  Rachel  in  her 
descent  with  a  laugh  that  echoed  round  the  house,  and 
Rachel  had  drawn  back  hastily  with  a  grave  little  curtsey. 
She  now  stood  still,  uncertain  whether  or  not  to  beat  a 
retreat,  for  Master  Oliver  was  a  notoriously  determined 
person  in  such  matters.  That  young  man,  however  set- 
tled the  point  by  retreating  himself  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  and  making  her  a  sweeping  bow  —  as  graceful  as 
the  stiffness  of  his  new  armour  permitted. 

"  Mistress  Rachel  Fullerton,  I  be  your  very  humble 
servant." 

Then  Betty  seized  her  hand. 

"  Oh  come,  come  to  him,"  she  cried.  "  Why  may  he 
not  kiss  you  as  of  old?  You  liked  it  when  he  went  away, 
and  that  is  but  six  months  ago!  " 

Miss  Betty,  it  may  be  remarked,  had  not  quite  recov- 
ered from  the  effect  of  her  grandmother's  reproof. 

Rachel  descended  with  her  head  in  the  air. 

"  We  are  too  old  for  such  things,  Oliver.  But  you 
should  know  that  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  and  she  gave 
him  her  hand.  He  kissed  it  with  a  flourish,  and  Betty, 
the  malicious,  clapped  her  hands  and  danced  about 
them. 

So 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Oh,  fie,  fie,  the  cavaher!  See  the  cavalier  and  his 
lady-love!  " 

Oliver  laughed  good-humouredly,  though  he  went 
very  red  in  the  face. 

"  Chut!  Be  quiet,  thou  baggage.  Thou'rt  jealous  as 
an  angry  kitten.  Well,  Mistress  Rachel,  I  could  wish 
for  better  evidence  of  your  friendship  than  your  hand, 
but  I  must  be  content,  I  suppose,  for  the  present.  Truly, 
it  is  hard  to  believe  when  I  look  at  you  that  only  six 
months  have  gone  since  our  parting.  You  are  quite 
plump,  and  your  cheeks  —  i'  faith,  they  are  like  roses. 
What,  may  I  not  even  look  at  you,  then?  Nay,  that  is 
too  bad." 

She  had  shrunk  a  little  from  his  gaze,  but  at  his  last 
words  she  gave  him  her  hand  again  with  a  frank  smile. 

"  Indeed,  you  may  look  if  you  please.  So  will  1. 
Surely  I  am  not  so  changed  as  you.  Why,  you  are  two 
inches  taller  at  the  least.  Have  you  seen  Bridget?  She 
was  so  anxious  for  your  coming.  Your  mother  is  abed, 
but  will  be  up  at  noon.  Your  father  is  away  with  the 
troop." 

"  Aye,  I  know.  And  rarely  put  out  I  was  until  this 
moment.  Heigho!  how  hot  it  is  in  the  house.  Let  us 
take  a  walk  down  the  garden.  Betsy,  my  kitten,  thou 
canst  go  to  thy  lessons  now,  d'ye  see?  " 

Betty  began  to  pout. 

"  But  I  want  to  be  with  you.  I  did  not  intend  Rachel 
to  turn  me  out.  Oh,  let  me  come.  I  must  go  to  granny 
in  a  little  space." 

"  Sister  mine,  you  will  go  now.  Come,  be  off,  or  I'll 
show  thee  how  they  tickle  stubborn  horses  over  sea. 
Nay,  I  mean  it  earnest.  I  want  Rachel;  I  do  not  want 
thee." 

He  made  a  grab  at  her,  half  threatening,  half  play- 
ful, and  Betty  fled.  On  the  stairway  above  she  met 
Bridget. 

"  Did  I  not  hear  Oliver's  voice?  " 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  You  well  might,  for  he  is  here.  But  you  cannot  see 
him." 

"And  why  not,  Miss  Impudence?     Indeed,  I  will." 

"  Then  look  to  yourself.  He  has  sent  me  packing. 
All  he  wants  and  all  he  cares  for  in  this  house  is  Rachel, 
Rachel,  Rachel!" 

She  shouted  the  name  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  laughed 
spitefully  in  Bridget's  face,  and  ran  away.  The  elder 
girl  paid  no  attention  to  her,  but  ran  downstairs.  She 
was  in  time  to  see  the  pair  disappear  into  the  garden. 

"  Oh,  oh.  Miss  Prim  Face,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  so  this 
is  what  you  have  waited  for,  when  we  thought  you  so 
modest  and  so  cold!  Lucky  for  you,  my  madam,  that 
he's  my  brother.     But  I  will  pay  him  out  for  this." 

Oliver  and  Rachel  meanwhile,  unconscious  of  this  sis- 
terly benison,  strolled  placidly  and  slowly  down  the  gar- 
den path  toward  a  summer-house  at  the  lower  end  of  it. 
The  sun  gleamed  on  his  breastplate,  and  a  light  breeze, 
heavy  with  the  scent  of  flowers,  stirred  the  folds  of  her 
dress.  Oliver  was  talking,  describing  his  life  abroad,  or 
some  of  it.  He  had  been  in  Holland  for  a  few  months, 
soldiering,  after  a  year  at  college,  and  had  now  returned 
post-haste  to  find  a  place  in  the  Parliament  army.  He 
was  a  strong,  well-built  young  fellow,  with  his  father's 
features,  his  father's  voice,  and  something  of  his  father's 
strength;  yet  not  his  father,  as  Rachel,  watching  him 
with  quiet  observance,  thought  to-day.  The  difference, 
she  decided,  lay  in  the  size  of  the  face:  it  was  not  so  mas- 
sive, the  eyes  much  smaller,  the  chin  of  less  depth,  the 
lips  fuller,  and  not  often  closed.  But  it  was  an  honest 
face,  and  Rachel  liked  it  well.  The  mouth  was  pleasant 
and  good-tempered,  much  more  amiable  in  expression 
than  Mr.  Ralph  Dangerfield's. 

Oliver,  for  his  part,  though  airing  his  opinions  on  pub- 
lic affairs  in  the  intervals  of  talk  about  himself,  was  scan- 
ning Rachel  closely.  Before  he  went  abroad  he  had 
thought  her  to  be  rather  a  plain  girl,  with  expressive 

82 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

eyes.  Now  —  well,  she  might  not  be  exactly  beautiful, 
but  there  was  a  charm  and  grace  in  her  movements,  an 
unconscious  dignity  and  a  perfect  sweetness  in  her  face, 
that  grew  upon  him  moment  by  moment  as  they  walked 
together,  until  he  swore  to  himself  that  he  had  never 
seen  so  fair  a  maiden  in  his  life. 

All  this  time  they  were  approaching  the  arbour,  which 
Oliver  intended  to  appropriate  as  soon  as  possible.  At 
present  they  were  under  inspection  of  the  maids  at  half 
the  windows  of  the  house.     Suddenly  Oliver  said:  — 

"How  I  do  envy  that  Dangerfield!  Had  I  but 
returned  a  few  hours  earlier  I'd  have  been  in  his  place 
to-day.  There  is  no  saying  what  sport  I  may  have  missed. 
Rumour  has  it  that  £20,000  worth  of  plate  is  lying  at 
Cambridge  Castle  for  tlie  king,  and  a  magazine  of  powder 
besides.  The  malignants  will  not,  forsooth,  part  with 
such  treasure  easily,  which  is  why  my  father  mustered 
all  the  troop.  There  will  be  some  shrewd  blows  struck; 
a  rare  scrimmage  like  enough,  and  here  I  am  idle  —  a 
lady's  carpet-knight.  And  though  truly  'tis  most  pleas- 
ant to  be  with  thee,  Rachel,  Ralph  Dangerfield  is  greatly 
to  be  envied." 

Oliver  had  a  loud  voice,  and  on  this  still  morning  it 
carried  far,  rousing  from  deep  meditation,  or,  to  be 
quite  truthful,  a  little  morning  nap,  someone  who  had 
already  taken  possession  of  the  summer-house  —  the 
Reverend  Isaac  Hepworth.  He  had  not  heard  all  that 
was  said,  but  quite  enough  to  rouse  his  irritable  nerves; 
and  sallying  forth  from  his  retreat,  he  confronted  the 
young  people  with  brows  drawn  ominously  down  and 
eyes  aflame.  Oliver,  at  sight  of  him,  uttered  an  exclama- 
tion under  his  breath  and  whispered  to  Rachel: — 

"Thy  reverend  uncle!  By  my  faith,  I  am  more 
unlucky  than  I  knew." 

Then  he  saluted,  and  gave  the  minister  a  most  respect- 
ful greeting,  which  Hepworth  scarcely  seemed  to  hear. 

"  Did  my  ears  deceive  me,"  he  said,  "  looking  from 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

one  to  the  other,  "  or  did  I  understand  you  to  say,  young 
sir,  that  you  looked  upon  that  —  that  youth  as  one 
deserving  of  your  envy?  " 

He  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  but  Rachel  trembled.  She 
detected  an  ominous  vibration  in  the  tone,  and  knew 
Oliver's  hasty  temper.  Oliver  coughed  and  reddened 
a  little. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  —  that  is,  perchance  I  did  say  words 
somewhat  to  that  effect.    You  see,  good  sir " 

But  Hepworth  would  hear  no  more. 

"  Then  listen ;  but  first,  hast  ever  met  him  in  thy 
travels?  I  know  thou  hast  been  in  godless  countries, 
among  godless  men.    Dost  know  him?  " 

"  I  do  not.    Nay,  I  assure  you  that  I  do  not." 

"  Then  I  will  give  you  warning,  friend,  which  I  trust 
will  bear  fruit  in  your  behaviour." 

He  spoke  to  Oliver,  but  he  looked  at  Rachel,  and  she 
felt  that  the  words  which  followed  were  aimed  at  her. 

"  Know,  young  sir,  thou  speakest  in  ignorance  and 
fatuity.  He  may  excite  thy  pity  —  the  meanest  of  God's 
creatures  should  do  that.  But,  for  the  rest,  avoid  him 
as  thou  wouldst  a  leper.  His  father,  whom  I  knew,  was 
a  serpent,  meek  and  gentle  to  the  outward  sense,  but 
nourishing  within  his  brain  the  blackest,  foulest  poison. 
He  was  a  Socinian  of  Socinians,  a  veritable  Antichrist. 
When  he  begot  this  boy,  through  shame  at  his  own 
belief,  or  from  a  deep  and  devilish  cunning  —  I  incline 
myself  to  the  latter  view  —  he  had  him  brought  up  by 
an  Arminian  rector,  and  at  the  age  of  sixteen  sent  him 
to  Cambridge  University.  Here  the  youth,  as  might  have 
been  expected  from  such  parentage,  lived  among  the 
flesh-pots  of  Egypt,  and  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  priests 
of  Baal.  He  mixed  with  debauched  malignants  and  men 
of  the  worst  appetites  and  lewdest  minds.  I  speak  of 
what  I  know,"  he  added,  glaring  at  Rachel,  who  had 
opened  her  lips  as  if  to  protest.  "  The  young  man's  tutor 
now  turned  malignant,  was  once  my  friend;  he  told  me. 

84 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

From  such  pursuits  the  youth  was  torn  by  the  news 
that  the  prelates  had  seized  his  father,  and  were  about 
to  deal  with  him  according  to  their  canon  law.  And 
let  it  be  said  that  for  once  Laud  and  his  myrmidons 
meted  out  bare  justice.  The  youth  saw  it  all  —  the  pil- 
lory, the  mutilation,  the  subsequent  death  of  his  father 
—  and  from  a  debauchee  he  became  a  bitter  fanatic.  He 
went  beyond  seas,  and  for  these  two  years  has  been 
devoted  heart  and  soul  to  the  art  of  killing  men.  Now 
he  has  returned,  like  a  vulture  who  scents  carnage  from 
afar.  Your  father,  too  lenient  where  his  compassion  is 
aroused,  hath  stretched  forth  his  hand  and  brought  him 
within  this  fold.  God  grant  he  has  not  let  in  a  wolf 
among  his  sheep.  Such  is  the  youth's  history.  And  now 
mark  you  this:  spite  of  teachings  in  orthodoxy  by  the 
rector,  I  suspect  this  youth  to  be  a  Socinian  at  heart. 
He  will  doubtless  keep  his  heresy  secret,  even  as  his 
father  did.  But  it  is  there,  or  he  would  not  have  glori- 
fied his  father,  or  defied  me  in  such  language  as  he  used 
last  night.  Avoid  him,  then,  Oliver.  His  father  was 
full  of  evil,  and  out  of  evil  only  evil  comes.  He  is  a  thing 
unclean.  Not  that  I  would  be  unjust,  even  to  a  Soci- 
nian," the  minister  continued;  "the  young  man  hath  a 
courage,  and  maybe  skill  in  arms,  that  may  do  the  cause 
good  service  by-and-by.  But  for  thee  —  son  of  a  God- 
fearing man,  and  thyself  brought  up  in  the  true  faith  — 
to  talk  as  thou  didst  of  this  scoffer,  this  schismatical  out- 
cast, that  I  cannot  endure.  Nor  will  I  for  one  instant. 
Now,  answer  me.  Hath  my  word  taken  root  in  thy 
mind?  Dost  believe  me?  It  is  not  meet  that  I  should 
speak  if  thine  ears  are  deaf  to  what  I  say.  I  might  as 
profitably  prate  to  stones.  Drive  thy  thoughts  forth,  do 
not  hesitate." 

Isaac  Hepworth  folded  his  arms,  drew  himself  up,  and 
gazed  questioningly  into  Oliver's  face,  a  tower  of  con- 
scious rectitude  and  authority. 

Rachel  also  waited  anxiously  for  Oliver  to  reply.     Her 

85 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

uncle's  words,  spoken  in  his  harshest  tones,  had  jarred 
her  through  and  through.  She  hoped  to  hear  OHver 
give  a  bknit  and  forcible  contradiction  in  what  terms 
he  chose  to  such  a  sweeping  denunciation  of  an  absent 
man.  But  she  waited  in  vain.  All  Oliver  did  was  to  say 
feebly : — 

"  My  thoughts.  Master  Hepworth  —  well,  for  sure  I 
know  not  what  to  think,  you  are  the  better  judge,  far 
better  than  I.  Socinian  is  he?  Why,  that  is  bad  indeed. 
But  I  knew  naught  of  his  religion,  nor  even  that  he  had 
a  father.  All  I  meant  by  my  words  was  a  desire  to  be 
with  the  troop  —  in  his  place  there.  I  was  rash  to  say 
it,  doubtless  I  was.  It  is  my  way.  Truly  I  will  remem- 
ber all  that  you  have  said." 

He  spoke  awkwardly,  but  with  so  much  apparent 
earnestness  that  Hepworth  was  pleased. 

"  It  is  well,  my  son,"  he  said,  turning  towards  the 
house;  "I  ask  no  more  than  that.  Thy  sense  and  dis- 
cretion will  do  the  rest.     I  must  now  to  my  studies." 

He  waved  his  hand  to  them  both  with  a  paternal 
gesture,  and  walked  briskly  away.  As  soon  as  he  was 
out  of  hearing,  Oliver  heaved  a  deep  sigh  of  relief. 

"  Merciful  gods !  what  a  coil  of  words.  I  ask  your 
pardon  —  he  is  your  uncle.  But  ugh !  he  sets  my  teeth 
on  edge.  What  right  hath  he,  either,  to  preach  to  me 
in  my  father's  house  about  my  father's  guest.  Faith! 
I  had  more  than  two  minds  to  tell  him  so,"  and  he  gave 
a  short  laugh. 

"  Why  then,  did  you  not?  " 

Rachel  spoke  very  quietly,  but  there  was  enough  sug- 
gestion in  her  voice  to  make  him  uneasy. 

"  Why?  We — ell,  I  thought  of  you,  sweet  friend,  and 
then  —  gad!  to  say  truth  I  cannot  argue  with  a  Pres- 
byter. He'd  beat  down  my  guard  and  thrust  in  on  me 
six  times  while  I  lunged  once.  I  have  no  strength  in 
words." 

There  was  a  short,  uneasy  silence. 

86 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"My  uncle  was  in  great  anger,"  Rachel  said  kindly; 
"  when  he  feels  thus  no  argument  avails,  and  opposition 
only  puts  him  in  a  fury.  Yet,  indeed,  he  should  not 
speak  so.  Oh,  when  I  hear  such  cruel,  bitter  words  I 
want  to  cry  '  shame  '  aloud." 

Oliver  kicked  a  stone  from  the  path. 

"  This  youth,  then,  Socinian  or  whatever  he  be,  hath 
gained  your  favour?  " 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  Mr.  Dangerfield  in  especial," 
Rachel  said.  "  We  have  not  spoken  —  I  know  nothing 
of  him.  It  is  my  uncle's  want  of  charity  toward  a 
stranger  —  one  who  hath  never  harmed  him.  I  should 
not  judge  my  elders,  but  I  could  wish  that  someone 
would  tell  him  roundly  how  wrong  and  cruel  it  be  to  say 
those  things.     It  would  be  a  righteous  deed." 

Oliver  hung  his  head,  then  said  impetuously: — 

"  Nay,  but  you  are  right.  I  should  have  done  it. 
Well,  it  is  not  too  late.  When  they  come  home  I  will 
take  this  Dangerfield  by  the  hand.  My  faith  I  will, 
under  your  uncle's  very  eye.  And  if  he  rebuke  me,  then 
will  I  tell  him  that  he  is  —  what  you  have  said.  But 
a  truce  to  the  whole  business.  The  summer-house  looks 
cool  and  cosy,  eh?  Come  in.  Now  tell  me  what  you 
have  been  doing  these  six  months.  My  tongue  has 
wagged  enough.  Oh!  this  is  a  dear  home.  The  war 
must  be,  and  I  trust  will  bring  good  times  when  the 
godly  party  triumphs.  Yet  'twill  be  a  blessed  day  when 
we  hang  our  swords  up  —  England  free  —  and  settle 
to  our  own  firesides  again.  Sit  in  this  corner,  sweet 
friend,  you  will  be  comfortable  there,  and  tell  me  every- 
thing about  yourself." 


CHAPTER  X 

WHEN  Isaac  Hepworth  left  the  young  people  he 
went  to  Cromwell's  library  to  resume  the  con- 
sideration of  a  sermon  he  had  intended  to  write  that 
morning.  But  though  the  text  he  had  chosen  —  "  The 
stone  which  the  builders  rejected,  the  same  is  become 
the  head  of  the  corner  "  —  was  a  familiar  one,  on  which 
he  had  preached  before  with  striking  success,  he  could 
not  fix  his  mind  upon  it  to-day;  he  was  too  much  con- 
cerned with  fears  and  anxiety  closely  touching  his  own 
life. 

Isaac  Hepworth  had  been  brought  up  in  a  narrow 
school,  a  school  that  maintained  on  principle  an  attitude 
of  unbending  antagonism  towards  all  other  beliefs. 
Intolerance  was  far  from  being  the  exclusive  possession 
of  any  sect;  but  at  this  period,  until  after  the  Restora- 
tion, the  Presbyterian  divines  were  perhaps  the  bitterest 
and  most  implacable  opposers  of  anything  approaching 
latitude  in  religious  belief.  It  was  a  Presbyterian  who 
Vv'rote : — 

"  A  toleration  is  the  grand  design  of  the  devil;  it  is  his  master- 
piece, and  the  chief  engine  he  works  by  at  this  time  to  uphold 
his  tottering  kingdom.  ...  As  original  sin  is  the  rnost 
fundamental  sin,  so  a  toleration  hath  all  errors  in  it  and  all  evils." 

In  such  a  creed  as  this  Hepworth  had  believed  from 
the  time  he  began  to  think  at  all;  and  his  vehement 
nature,  which  saw  and  felt  all  things  in  extremes,  carried 
him  to  the  furthest  point  that  a  man  could  go,  who,  as  far 
as  he  could  see  it  did  what  was  right  for  right's  sake, 
and  lived  a  pure  and  self-denying  life.     He  was  wedded, 

88 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

body  and  soul  and  mind  to  his  ministerial  work;  it  was 
the  staff  of  life  to  him,  his  sole  nourishment  and  stimu- 
lant. In  the  dark  days  of  the  war  he  was  one  of  the 
originators  of  a  service  which  lasted  from  nine  in  the 
morning  to  five  in  the  evening.  After  preaching  himself 
to  an  immense  congregation  for  two  hours  he  listened  to 
another  sermon  of  an  hour,  a  prayer  of  two  hours,  a  sec- 
ond sermon  lasting  another  hour,  and  a  second  prayer  of 
two  hours  more. 

He  was  a  bachelor,  and  until  past  middle  life  had  taken 
no  interest,  except  as  a  minister,  in  any  human  being.  It 
was  only  when,  upon  the  death  of  Rachel's  father,  his 
duties  as  guardian  to  the  orphan  began  that  he  knew  the 
real  meaning  of  personal  responsibility,  and  realised  that 
he  had  anything  to  live  for  but  his  church;  but  he  realised 
it  then,  and  appreciated  the  blessing  of  it.  In  spite  of  her 
depression  of  mind,  Rachel  brightened  his  house  and 
brought  comfort  into  his  formerly  erratic,  dismal  mode 
of  existence.  Alas  for  him  that  it  came  so  late  in  life  that 
he  was  unable  to  respond  to  the  timid  advances  she  made 
from  time  to  time  to  give  him  the  love  he  so  sorely 
needed,  and  to  receive  from  him  support,  guidance,  and 
sympathy  in  her  bitter  loneliness  of  heart.  He  did  care, 
he  did  sympathise,  but  he  could  not  show  it;  and  thus, 
when  Cromwell  came  and  Rachel  was  snatched  away  to 
save  her  life,  she  left  her  uncle  in  his  solitude  without  a 
pang,  and  was  unconscious  at  the  time  of  the  blank  she 
left  behind,  and  what  a  large  space  she  had  occupied  in 
the  heart  of  this  morose  and  irritable  man.  Hepworth 
himself  knew  it  well;  and  though,  when  Rachel  lived  with 
him,  he  rarely  noticed  whether  she  were  well  or  ill,  and  to 
the  last  resented  the  doctor's  visits,  no  sooner  had  she 
taken  her  departure  than  he  thought  constantly  of  her, 
and  was  for  ever  making  excuses  to  visit  Cromwell  at 
Ely,  while  her  welfare,  spiritual  and  temporal,  became  one 
of  the  chief  objects  of  his  life.  As  time  went  on  Rachel's 
two  guardians,  at  first  almost  strangers  to  one  another, 

89 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

began  to  form  a  close  friendship,  partly  from  the  active 
part  both  were  taking  in  the  struggle  of  the  people 
against  the  Crown,  but  chiefly  through  the  love  they 
shared  for  their  ward ;  and  so  it  came  about  that  before  a 
year  had  passed  the  minister  was  a  frequent  guest  at  Ely, 
and  it  was  not  without  justice  he  had  made  his  boast 
that  he  possessed  authority  in  the  house.  His  great  ally 
was  Mrs.  Cromwell,  who  was  a  devout  woman,  of  simple 
and  rather  narrow  mind.  In  her  opinion  a  Presbyter 
could  do  no  wrong. 

Hepworth's  mode  of  expressing  his  affection  for  his 
niece  was  characteristic.  His  knowledge  of  women  was 
of  the  slightest,  and  in  his  opinion  they  were  all  influ- 
enced by  the  same  motives  and  equally  liable  to  the  same 
temptations.  Thus,  though  he  had  never  found  Rachel 
in  the  least  inclined  to  desire  the  company  of  young  men, 
no  sooner  did  Ralph  appear  upon  the  scene  and  receive 
from  her  that  unlucky  curtsey,  than  her  uncle  began  to 
torture  himself  with  every  imaginable  foreboding,  and 
could  neither  eat  nor  work  nor  take  his  rest  by  night  for 
thinking  of  the  dark,  handsome  face  of  the  Socinian's  son, 
and  the  danger  to  his  loved  one's  peace. 

This  morning,  while  Oliver  and  Rachel  chatted  in  the 
summer-house,  while  Ralph  obeyed  Cromwell's  order  at 
Cambridge,  Hepworth  turned  over  the  question  in  his 
mind  for  the  twentieth  time,  and  came  to  the  conclusion 
that,  whatever  might  happen,  Rachel  and  the  stranger 
should  not  meet  again.  He  had  not  been  blind  to  her 
resentment  of  his  words  to  Oliver.  These  words  had 
been  spoken  as  much  to  induce  her  to  betray  the  par- 
tiality for  Ralph  which  Hepworth  was  sure  she  felt  as  to 
warn  Oliver.  And  the  minister,  in  his  simplicity,  hugged 
himself,  and  thought  how  well  he  had  succeeded.  The 
only  question  that  remained  was  the  best  way  of  getting 
rid  of  this  man.  Hepworth  pondered  over  various  plans 
for  an  hour,  and  then,  unable  to  endure  inaction  and  sus- 
pense, he  bethought  himself  of  the  advantage  of  securing 

90 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  powerful  friend,  and  went  to  pay  his  respects  to  Madam 
Cromwell. 

The  old  lady  received  him  kindly,  but  with  a  reserve 
of  manner  which  most  people  would  have  remarked  at 
once.  Perception,  however,  was  not  Isaac  Hepworth's 
strong  point. 

"  My  grandson,  Oliver,  has  returned  home  they  tell 
me,"  Madam  Cromwell  said,  for  the  sake  of  something  to 
say,  as  the  minister,  after  greetings,  sat  down  in  silence. 

He  smiled  good-humouredly. 

"  I  have  just  met  him  —  with  my  niece,  A  fine  young 
man,  madam,  hasty  in  speech,  yet  respectful  to  age,  and 
sensible,  I  trust,  to  reproof  and  warning.  A  worthy  son 
of  his  good  father.     He  has  my  full  approval." 

Madam  Cromwell  raised  her  eyebrows  and  coughed. 
"  For  what  reason,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "  should  this 
good  man  patronise  our  house?  "  Then  an  idea  occurred 
to  her,  and  her  eyes  gleamed  with  mischief, 

"  It  is  hard  upon  an  old  dame  like  me,  reverend  sir,  to 
find  her  place  taken  by  the  young,  even  though  the 
usurper  be  one  she  loves  well.  Never  before  hath  Oliver 
failed  to  greet  me  within  an  hour  of  his  home-coming; 
yet  to-day  I  have  not  seen  his  face,  Rachel  hath  charmed 
him  away." 

The  minister  smiled  again. 

"  Say  you  so,  madam.  It  is  not  well ;  yet  they  are 
young,  and  the  sun  shines.     We  must  forgive  them." 

He  sighed,  and  his  stern  face  softened  for  a  moment. 
Madam  Cromwell  looked  at  him  in  wonder.  Had  even 
this  man  been  young? 

"You  are  right,  reverend  friend,"  she  rejoined;  "and 
if  Oliver  be  drawn  to  Rachel,  and  she  incline  toward  him 
as  time  goes  on,  there  could  be  naught  but  deep  thank- 
fulness in  our  hearts.  It  was  this,  perhaps,  you  came  to 
converse  upon  this  morning?" 

A  home  thrust.  The  minister  started,  then  collected 
himself. 

91 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  No,  no,"  he  answered,  at  least  —  well  —  in  part,  per- 
chance. I  could  have  no  objection  —  that  is,  I  should  be 
pleased  to  discuss  such  a  business  with  my  worthy  friend. 
The  future  of  the  child  troubles  me  and  weighs  upon  my 
mind.  The  times  are  troubled.  The  head  of  a  young 
girl  is  easily  turned  with  vanity.  Devourers  of  the  inno- 
cent are  everywhere.  Schismatics,  heretics,  atheists, 
Anabaptists,  Socinians  abound  and  flourish  like  foul 
weeds;  no  household  is  safe  from  their  presence.  Why, 
madam  — "  He  paused  to  take  breath  before  plunging 
into  a  tirade  which  would  have  lasted  half  an  hour. 
Madam  Cromwell  hastened  to  interrupt  him. 

"  Sir,"  she  exclaimed,  her  tone  cold  and  measured,  but 
emphatic  as  his  own,  "  this  be  all  true,  but  I  fail  to  under- 
stand its  application  to  Rachel.  My  son  protects  her.  Is 
this  not  enough?  " 

"  Aye,  aye,"  the  minister  replied  with  an  impatient 
shake  of  the  head,  such  as  a  horse  gives  when  checked  in 
a  gallop  on  turf,  "  I  deny  not  his  strength.  Yet,  madam, 
I  confess  myself  in  doubt  touching  his  perception  of  the 
danger.  Yea,  I  fear  that  blindness  overtakes  him  when 
public  matters  occupy  his  mind.  Else  —  nay,  I  will  be 
precise  with  you.  This  is  the  case.  Last  night  a  youth 
arrived,  invited  by  your  son,  treated  by  him  with,  I  had 
almost  said  a  fatherly  affection.  To-day  I  understand 
the  youth  marcheth  as  his  lieutenant  to  Cambridge, 
to-morrow  he  will  return  here.  This  young  man,"  he 
raised  his  voice  to  the  tone  of  solemn  denunciation  he  had 
used  to  Oliver,  "  this  youth  is  godless.  You  must  know 
his  parentage,  and  I  fear  that  as  the  father  was  so  the  son 
will  be.  I  am  sorely  ill  at  ease.  It  is  not  right  that  one 
who  reviles  and  even  dares  to  threaten  a  servant  of  the 
Lord  should  be  an  inmate  of  this  house.  You  may  tell 
me  I  am  but  a  guest  myself,  and  that  my  words,  there- 
fore savour  of  undue  interference.  Madam,  I  deny  that. 
While  my  niece  is  here  I  have  a  right  to  watch  every 
man  who  tarries  in  this  place;  I  hold  that  in  such  com- 

92 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

pany  as  this  her  soul's  welfare  is  in  danger.  What  is  to 
be  done?  I  ask  you  that.  There  is  but  one  answer  pos- 
sible. Either  he  must  depart  forthwith,  or  I  shall  be 
constrained  to  withdraw  Rachel  from  Master  Cromwell's 
care.  I  must  find  some  godly  roof  where  no  long-haired, 
slashing  dare-devil  may  enter  and  tempt  her  with  the  frip- 
peries and  trickeries  that  catch  the  eye  and  sense,  and 
which  Satan  ever  bestows  upon  his  dearest  sons.  That, 
madam,"  changing  his  tone  and  bowing  gravely,  "  is  the 
message  I  come  to  bear  to  you  this  morning,  and  which  I 
must  communicate  to  my  friend  upon  his  return.  I 
would  now  know  your  thoughts  touching  the  matter. 
May  I  possess  them?  " 

It  was  not  often  that  the  minister  made  such  a  request 
to  anyone.  It  was  an  honest  tribute  of  respect  to  Madam 
Cromwell,  and  a  sign  of  his  desire  to  gain  her  goodwill. 

The  old  lady,  however,  did  not  seem  much  affected  by 
the  honour.  She  was  quite  calm,  but  looked  perplexed, 
with  a  tinge  of  mild  surprise  in  her  face. 

"  Truly,  sir,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  you.  How 
and  in  what  manner  is  Rachel's  soul,  the  purest  that  I 
know,  in  danger  through  this  youth?  A  few  minutes 
since  we  spake  of  Oliver." 

"The  youth  is  handsomer,"  snapped  the  minister 
rudely,  "  of  braver  carriage  and  more  courtly  bearing." 

"  And  these,"  she  said  mildly,  "  are  in  your  eyes  deadly 
sins." 

"  They  are  the  sleekness  and  the  smoothness  of  a  tiger's 
skin.  I  would  not  trust  him  an  instant  out  of  sight.  His 
father " 

"And  what  of  him?"  There  was  a  ring  in  the  old 
lady's  voice  Rachel  would  have  loved  to  hear.  "  Good 
sir,  I  knew  this  man.  I  may  grieve  at  his  falling  off  in 
faith.  I  have  read  his  book."  She  paused  an  instant  to 
enjoy  Mr.  Hepworth's  look  of  horror.  "  He  is  mistaken. 
His  premises  are  based  on  falsities;  his  arguments  touch- 
ing our  Lord  are  a  tissue  of  fine-spun  sophistries.     But 

93 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

even  so,  I  found  much  that  was  good  in  the  work,  much 
that  expressed  the  gentle  soul  of  one  who  was  my  son's 
dearest  friend  until  life's  responsibilities  drew  their  lives 
apart.  I  say  this,"  she  added  hastily,  for  the  minister's 
face  was  purple  with  the  passionate  protest  boiling  within 
him,  "  not  to  commence  an  argument  upon  Socinianism 
—  we  are  agreed  upon  that,  nor  to  tear  asunder  the  cob- 
webs these  poor  creatures  spin  within  their  brains.  But 
I  would  have  you  understand,  and  from  my  lips,  which 
are  less  hasty  than  my  son's,  that  we  in  this  house  deem 
the  name  of  Dangerfield  worthy  of  all  respect,  and  that  I 
think  that  those  who  dwell  with  us  would  be  wise  to 
remember  this  in  their  conversation." 

She  bowed  as  she  spoke,  as  a  queen  might  to  a  courtier 
who  had  said  something  indiscreet  about  the  heir-appar- 
ent. And  Hepworth,  proud  and  confident  as  he  was, 
could  find  no  words  in  which  to  answer  her.  But  he  was 
neither  conquered  nor  convinced;  it  only  made  him 
angry. 

"  Assuredly,  madam,"  he  said  in  withering  tones,  "  I 
am,  then,  fully  confirmed  in  my  resolution.  A  house 
where  a  Socinian's  book  is  belauded  and  a  Socinian's  son 
embraced  is  no  fit  home  for  Rachel.  I  had  better  at  once 
prepare  her  for  her  departure.  It  will  not,  I  promise  you, 
be  any  fault  of  mine  if  it  is  delayed." 

He  bowed  frigidly,  and  stalked  out  of  the  room.  Until 
he  had  gone  Madam  Cromwell  preserved  an  impressive 
dignity,  only  acknowledging  his  salute  wdth  the  slightest 
possible  inclination  of  the  head;  but  when  the  door  closed 
her  face  changed. 

"Will  he  really  carry  this  matter  through?  He  hath 
the  power,  for  by  the  Will  the  child  was  to  be  with  him, 
and  this  Presbyter  is  as  obstinate  as  any  mule, and  greatly 
roused.  Alas!  my  reproof  hath  not  softened  him,  I  fear; 
but  I  cannot  live  without  my  sweet  daughter.  God  grant 
that  son  Oliver  find  a  way  of  bringing  the  man  to  reason. 
But  he  will,  he  will!     All  depends  on  his  speedy  return. 

94 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

As  for  this  Ralph,  I  desire  to  see  him  greatly;  my  curi- 
osity hath  not  been  so  put  on  tip-toe  concerning  anyone 
for  many  years." 

The  old  lady  had  her  desire  gratified  before  she  slept, 
for  Cromwell  and  Ralph  returned  in  time  for  the  evening 
meal.  To  the  astonishment  of  the  family,  Madam  Crom- 
well broke  through  her  rule  and  appeared  at  table,  and 
little  Betty  nearly  danced  out  of  her  chair  when  Ralph 
went  forward  at  Cromwell's  introduction  and,  bowing 
low,  kissed  the  old  lady's  hand. 

"Thy  grandfather  to  the  life,"  was  all  Madam  Crom- 
well said,  in  a  curiously  sharp,  strained  voice,  "  even  as  I 
saw  him  just  before  he  went  to  sea.  We  never  met 
again."  Then  speaking  with  an  emphasis  which  at  least 
one  of  the  company  understood,  she  said,  as  she  went 
slowly  to  her  place,  "  He  was  a  brave  and  honourable 
man,  young  sir,  beloved  by  all  who  knew  him.  God 
grant  that  thou  art  as  like  him  in  nature  as  thou  art  in 
face." 

Madam  Cromwell  had  called  Hepworth  an  obstinate 
man.  She  was  right.  No  sooner  did  he  see  that  not  a  per- 
son in  the  household,  except,  perhaps.  Mistress  Crom- 
well, shared  his  distrust  of  Ralph,  than  his  intention  to 
be  rid  of  him,  or  remove  Rachel,  became  a  fixed  resolve, 
and  he  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night  rehearsing  the 
speech  which  he  should  make  to  Cromwell  the  next  day. 
It  is  a  practice  common  to  self-conscious  men,  and  has 
the  advantage  of  relieving  the  mind  and  familiarising  it 
with  the  subject  in  hand,  but  otherwise  it  is  usually  waste 
of  efifort.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  the  opponent  says 
exactly  the  opposite  of  what  he  was  expected  to  say. 

The  interview  took  place  directly  after  breakfast  in  the 
library. 

"  You  have  somewhat  to  say  to  me  touching  our  ward," 
Cromwell  began  before  the  minister  had  time  to  speak. 
"  Speak  freely;  hold  nothing  back.  That  child  is  dear  to 
me  as  one  of  my  own;  I  have  no  wish  but  for  her  welfare." 

95 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  sat  down  and  motioned  the  minister  to  do  the  same, 
but  Hepworth  kept  his  feet. 

"I  shall  indeed  speak,"  he  replied;  "but  it  must  be 
in  the  form  of  a  question.  What  are  your  intentions 
regarding  the  disposal  of  this  youth  Dangerfield,  the 
son  of  —  of  your  old  friend?" 

"  A  strange  question,"  Cromwell  replied  coldly,  "  but 
I  will  answer  it.  Yesterday  I  put  him  to  a  test.  He 
stood  it  well;  and  as  I  find  that  he  is  wishful  to  serve 
with  me  I  shall  enroll  him  as  cornet  in  the  troop.  Indeed, 
had  I  not  promised  the  lieutenancy  to  that  Geoffrey 
Capell,  whom  you  are  acquainted  with,  and  whom  I 
approved  last  time  I  was  in  London,  I  should  judge  this 
Dangerfield  to  be  well  fitted  for  the  post." 

The  minister's  face  darkened.   "Where  will  he  reside?" 

"  Wheresoever  the  troop  is  quartered.  At  the  present 
in  this  house." 

"  Have  you  considered  what  this  means?  Nay,  but 
you  cannot."  His  tone  was  full  of  earnestness  and  pain, 
almost  supplicating.  "  I  desire  not  to  speak  harshly 
of  the  youth.  He  is,  doubtless,  what  his  father  made 
him;  but  he  is  not,  cannot  be,  a  fit  member  of  a  godly 
household." 

"What!"  Cromwell's  voice  was  like  the  first  growl 
of  thunder  in  a  storm.  "What  say  you?  You  go  too 
far,  sir,  and  speak  in  ignorance  and  prejudice.  I  tell 
you,  I  have  tried  the  lad.  I  know  him;  you  do  not. 
He  is  hot-brained  and  hasty-tongued ;  he  ever  champs 
the  bit  as  blood-colts  will.  But  he  is  of  serious  mind,  full 
of  good  purpose  and  of  military  knowledge ;  a  rare  youth ; 
a  weapon  made  to  my  hand,  sent  by  God  Himself!  The 
need  we  have  for  just  such  men  as  he  is  desperate.  Let 
me  tell  you  that  the  success  of  the  godly  cause  hangs 
upon  it,  and  in  my  belief  upon  naught  else.  There  are 
honest  soldiers  enough  and  to  spare  if  we  but  drill,  arm, 
and  pay  them;  but  officers,  where  are  they?  Generals 
we  may  find,  belike,  and  even  a   few    colonels    to  pass 

q6 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

muster;  but  of  captains,  good  captains,  I  know  few  here- 
abouts, and  of  subordinate  officers  none,  or  good  as  none. 
Our  younger  gentry  are  malignant  to  a  man.  At  the 
University  of  Cambridge  the  students  are  one  and  all  for 
the  king.  I  tell  you,  an  army  to  win  victory  must  have 
as  leaders  of  the  rank  and  file  men  full  of  courage,  full  of 
the  love  of  truth  and  the  noble  spirit  that  is  born  of 
an  upright  life  —  such  men  only.  Dangerfield  is  one  of 
these.  Wherefore,  be  his  views  touching  religion  what 
they  may  —  Arminian,  Socinian,  Anabaptist  even  —  I 
shall  appoint  him  this  day,  and  no  man  or  men,  under- 
stand me,  shall  in  this  matter  set  my  will  aside  or  reverse 
what  I  have  judged  fit  to  do." 

He  had  been  walking  up  and  down  the  room  accord- 
ing to  his  habit,  and  now  turned  short  round  opposite 
the  minister,  and,  thrusting  his  lingers  in  his  sword-belt, 
stood  with  feet  apart  and  head  thrown  back  waiting  for 
his  reply.  This  was  speedily  forthcoming.  Hepworth's 
eyes  were  gleaming;  his  nostrils  dilated  like  those  of  a 
horse  awaiting  the  word  to  charge. 

"  You  have  answered  me.  It  is  not  needful  that  I 
say  another  word  about  this  youth.  I  leave  him  will- 
ingly, and  turn  to  that  which  concerns  myself  and  thy- 
self, Cromwell,  as  private  men.  My  sister's  child  is  under 
thy  roof.  Is  it  to  be  permitted  that  a  man  who,  in  pres- 
ence of  thy  wife  and  others,  deliberately  affirmed  that  a 
scandalous  work,  containing  the  most  shocking  blasphe- 
mies against  our  Lord,  was  a  sacred  book,  whose  father, 
by  whom  his  mind  was  formed,  was  —  I  must  say  it  —  a 
damnable  schismatic  —  is  it  to  be  permitted,  I  ask  you, 
that  such  an  one  shall  have  access  to  the  company  of  this 
our  ewe  lamb?  Rid  thy  mind  of  politics;  think  first  of 
the  trust  that  hath  been  laid  upon  us.  He  is  a  goodly 
yovith  to  look  upon;  she  fair  and  winsome,  and  a  jewel  in 
mind  and  heart.  Who  knows  what  Satan  may  not  do 
here,  drawing  these  two  together  by  every  wile  of  devil- 
ish cunning,  until  neither  you  nor  I  nor  God  Himself 
7  97 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

can  part  them?  Think  of  this,  and  pause  before  it  is  too 
late.  But  if  thou  wilt  not  "  —  Cromwell's  face  was  as 
hard  and  expressionless  as  stone  — "  then  I  tell  thee 
I  will  withdraw  her  from  this  house  —  aye,  this  very 
night  —  and  never  shall  she  be  under  thy  roof  again." 

Still  Cromwell  stood  unmoved.  "  Where  can  you  take 
her?  You  have  no  home  fit  for  a  young  gentlewoman. 
London  v/ill  not  do;  these  are  not  the  times  to  take  our 
young  girls  pleasuring  to  town.  But  enough  —  I  say  we 
have  talked  enough."  His  face  reddened,  and  his  voice 
grew  harsh  and  stern.  "  The  day  is  drawing  on,  and  I 
have  much  to  do.  Hearken!  You  will  not  take  Rachel 
from  this  house.  I  forbid  it,  and,  if  needful,  will  retain 
her  by  force.  But  I  would  not  that  we  quarrelled.  How 
like  you  this:  the  child  to  remain,  with  your  full  consent, 
and  I  to  promise  —  to  swear,  if  it  please  you,  pledge 
my  word  to  God  —  that  should  he  prove  to  be  of  his 
father's  faith,  and  any  love-leaning  appear  between  them, 
be  it  ever  so  little,  in  so  far  as  it  be  real  and  mutual,  I 
would  separate  their  lives  as  with  a  sword?  Will  this 
content  you?  If  so,  then  I  will  pass  my  word.  If  not, 
go  your  way.  Rouse  against  me  the  thunder  of  your 
pulpits,  appeal  to  the  authority  of  Parliament;  only 
remember  that  neither  thou  nor  they  will  move  me  one 
handsbreadth  to  right  or  left  from  the  path  I  elect  to 
follow.  Now,  make  your  choice,  and  make  it  quickly, 
for  the  day  wears  on." 

They  faced  each  other  —  minister  and  laymen  —  equal 
in  courage  and  obstinacy,  men  who  had  rarely  known 
the  meaning  of  the  word  "  submit."  Hepworth  glared 
back  into  Cromwell's  eyes  a  moment,  then  slowly  bowed 
his  head  in  silent  prayer.  When  he  raised  it,  after  a  short 
interval,  the  fire  in  his  eyes  had  gone. 

"  I  accept  thy  word,  Cromwell,"  he  replied.  '*  I  do  not 
need  an  oath,  for  thou  art  an  honourable  man.  It  is 
understood  between  us,  then,  that  thou  wilt  watch  over 
our  child  as  thine  own,  and  prevent  with  all  thy  might 

q8 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  with  all  thy  strength  any  possibiUty  of  union  between 
this  youth  and  her." 

Cromwell  crossed  the  room,  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
a  Bible. 

"  Brother,  if  Ralph  Dangerfield  share  his  father's 
unbelief,  I  swear  that  I  will  spare  no  means  to  prevent 
such  union.  I  swear  it  on  this  holy  Book.  Let  God  be 
judge  between  us  if  I  break  my  word." 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  train  of  waggons  with  its  valuable  freight  was 
despatched  to  London  with  an  escort  of  twenty  men 
under  Ralph's  command.  It  was  a  sign  of  the  uncer- 
tainty of  men's  minds,  and  the  want  of  preparation  on 
the  part  of  the  Royalists,  that  treasure  of  immense  value 
could  be  safely  conveyed  sixty  miles  under  such  slight 
protection.  But  to  Ralph  it  was  a  very  anxious  business, 
and  he  allowed  his  men  little  rest,  and  took  none  himself, 
until  the  money  was  lodged  in  the  Tower.  He  despatched 
a  messenger  to  Ely  to  acquaint  Cromwell  with  the  arrival 
of  the  treasure,  and  then  went  to  see  Doctor  Taunton. 
He  was  prepared  for  a  cool  or  even  a  harsh  reception, 
but  after  careful  thought  determined  that  the  estrange- 
ment, if  it  must  come,  should  not  arise  from  any  neglect 
of  his.  The  doctor's  manner,  however,  was  unchanged. 
He  held  Ralph's  hand  a  moment  longer  than  usual,  and 
pressed  it  warmly  as  he  said: — 

"  I  knew  I'd  see  you;  it  is  not  in  your  nature  to  for- 
get your  friends.  Nay,  I  know  all,"  as  Ralph  was  going 
to  speak.  "  Charlton  has  been  here.  Yovi  are  a  rebel 
in  arms  against  the  king.  By  rights,  now  that  I  have 
you  in  safe  keeping,  I  should  convey  ye  to  a  loyal  strong- 
hold, there  to  be  tried  and  condemned.  I  shall  not.  I 
bear  no  malice  against  you,  neither  against  Noll  Crom- 
well. It  was  a  shrewd  blow,  well  delivered,  and  has 
opened  the  eyes  of  our  party.  But  bah !  away  with  poli- 
tics, lad,  between  us  now  and  for  evermore.  While  I 
live  and  these  walls  hold  together  you  will  find  a  home 
and  a  refuge  here,  let  the  times  be  what  they  may.  And 
when  the  country  has  done  tearing  and  worrying  itself, 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

what  money  I  have  left  is  yours,  whoever  wins.  How 
long  can  you  remain?  This  night?  Good.  Then  we'll 
have  a  bottle  of  the  best,  if  you  are  not  turned  water- 
drinker.  Tell  me  of  these  Cromwells.  Are  there  daugh- 
ters? Mistress  Cromwell  was  fair  eno'  before  she  mar- 
■ed.     They  do  not  all,  I  trust,  favour  their  father." 

At  Ely,  even  in  his  absence,  Ralph  was  still  a  dis- 
turbing element.  Madam  Cromwell,  indeed,  thought  of 
little  else,  and  all  day  long  after  the  interview  between 
her  son  and  Hepworth  she  sat  in  her  room  listening  for 
Cromwell,  waiting  to  hear  the  news.  At  last,  when  it 
was  growing  dark,  she  heard  the  brisk,  firm  step,  and  he 
came  in,  took  her  hand,  and  kissed  it. 

"  Thou  art  a-weary,  son,"  she  said  tenderly,  returning 
his  salute.  "Has  the  day  gone  hard  with  thee?  Alas! 
the  burden  of  thy  public  work  bears  heavily  upon  thy 
shoulders.  Shall  we  be  at  war,  think  you,  or  will  this 
misguided  king  see  the  error  of  his  ways?  " 

"  Charles  will  not  do  that,  mother,  until  God  hath 
given  the  godly  party  such  advantage  that  he  dare  not 
raise  his  hand  without  our  leave.  At  least,  this  is  my 
view,  as  I  told  John  Hampden  but  a  week  ago." 

"What  thinks  he?" 

"  The  same.  Oh,  we  see  eye  to  eye.  He  is  one  of  ten 
thousand,  a  thorough  man,  yet  with  a  nicety  of  manner, 
speech,  and  bearing  that  charms  the  most  particular;  a 
lion's  courage,  too,  and  a  heart  of  tempered  steel.  All 
love  him  and  all  trust  him.  A  true  king  of  men;  but 
he  stands  alone,  and  is  vexed  beyond  expression  at  the 
backwardness  and  laxness  of  those  who  command  the 
army.    But  now,  touching  Rachel." 

Madam  Cromwell  bent  anxiously  forward. 

"What  is  resolved  upon?" 

"  She  stays  with  us." 

"Thank  God!" 

Cromwell  was  silent,  and  his  mother  became  uneasy. 

"  There  is  something  on  thy  mind." 
roi 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  frowned. 

"  My  patience  is  nigh  worn  out,  that  is  all.  A  little 
more,  and  I  will  turn  and  rend  him,  smite  him  hip  and 
thigh  with  his  own  weapons,  and  make  him  blush  for  the 
Church  he  holds  so  dear.  Ye  Presbyters!  ye  Presbyters! 
God  have  mercy  on  this  distracted  country  if  some  of 
you  ever  get  its  throat  within  your  grasp.  Have  ye  not 
closed  your  ears  even  against  the  words  of  the  apostle 
in  your  unchristian  zeal?  How  runs  it,  mother? 
'  Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of  angels,  and  have 
not  charity,  I  am  become  as  sounding  brass,  and  a  tink- 
ling cymbal.  .  .  .  Though  I  have  all  faith,  so  that  I 
could  remove  mountains,  and  have  not  charity,  I  am 
nothing.  Charity  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind;  .  .  .  she 
is  not  easily  provoked,  thinketh  no  evil;  .  .  .  hopeth  all 
things,  endureth  all  things.'  Well,"  stopping  short  and 
resuming  his  usual  tone,  "  such  thoughts  as  these  were 
on  my  lips  this  morning  as  Hepworth  spoke.  I  gave 
them  no  expression.  Indeed,  he  was  wondrous  mod- 
erate in  what  he  said.  You  tamed  him,  mother."  He 
took  her  hand,  smiling,  "  Hast  not  tamed  me  so  when 
my  head  was  full  of  blind  unreason?  It  is  a  great  power, 
and  only  given  to  women.  So,  I  kept  my  tongue  within 
my  teeth  for  once  —  to  a  point ;  but  upon  one  thing  I 
enlightened  him,  and  that  was  touching  Ralph  Danger- 
field.  That  lad  stays  with  the  troop,  and  Master  Hep- 
worth  knows  it." 

"  Ah,  you  told  him  that !  It  was  like  thee,  Oliver. 
What  did  he  answer?" 

"  That  Rachel  should  leave  this  house  to-night." 

"  I  feared  he  would." 

"  Upon  which,"  Cromwell  went  on  quietly,  "  I  spoke 
somewhat  to  the  point." 

His  mother  laughed  softly. 

"  I  laid  down  terms  to  which  he  agreed,"  Cromwell 
continued.  "  Nay,  the  man  is  worthy,  mother.  If  I  said 
otherwise  I  should  myself  be  wanting  in  the  charity  he 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

lacks.  When  I  gave  my  word  that  we'd  keep  watch  over 
the  child,  he  accepted  it  with  readiness.  The  matter  will 
not  trouble  us  again." 

Madam  Cromwell  looked  puzzled.  Her  son  noticed 
it,  and  added  with  some  emphasis: — 

"It  was  a  simple  thing  enough;  the  Presbyter  is 
haunted  by  the  thought  that  Rachel  and  Ralph  might 
make  a  match  of  it,  and,  looking  upon  the  lad  as  a 
Socinian,  he  would  rather  she  should  die.  My  answer 
was  that  should  this  danger  arise  I  v/ould  see  to  it  myself. 
In  short,  that  it  should  not  be.    This  contented  him." 

Cromwell  spoke  in  the  tone  of  a  man  who  has  done 
all  that  is  necessary  and  is  perfectly  satisfied  with  him- 
self. But  he  watched  his  mother  narrowly,  and  a  few 
moments  later  remarked: — 

"  Madam  mother,  what  have  I  said  that  should  make 
you  look  so  troubled?  Dost  wish  for  a  Socinian  grand- 
son because  his  grandfather  was  thy  playfellow?  " 

"  God  forbid,  son." 

"And  yet  —  what  is  it,  then?" 

"  My  dear,"  she  replied  slowly,  "  thou,  not  I,  must  be 
the  judge  of  this;  thou  art  her  guardian  and  his  friend, 
I  am  a  foolish  old  woman;  I  have  thoughts,  but  they 
are  of  little  worth." 

"  Pish!  "  he  exclaimed  roughly;  "  mother,  that  is  fool- 
ish talk.  Come  now,  reprove  me  as  if  I  were  again  the 
boy  that  sat  upon  your  knee.    What  have  I  done?" 

The  old  lady  sighed. 

"  I  will  speak,  then.  Thou  hast  passed  thy  word  that 
this  shall  never  be?" 

Cromwell  nodded. 

"  Thou  hast  promised  too  much." 

"How  should  that  be?" 

Madam  Cromwell  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  in 
a  musing  tone  she  answered: — 

"  I  judge  by  what  I  see  and  know.  I  do  not  prophesy, 
but  the  words  of  an  old  woman,  who  hath  watched  and 

103 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

loved  and  wept  over  many  children,  are  not  to  be  lightly 
set  aside.  I  see  a  man,  young  in  years,  but  headstrong, 
knowing  no  fear,  and  whose  father  and  father's  father 
knew  no  fear,  a  youth  who  may  now  be  guided,  checked, 
and  admonished  by  such  an  one  as  thee,  but  who,  when 
he  loveth  a  woman  will  be  held  by  none.  Then  I  see  a 
girl,  as  yet  a  child  in  many  things,  who  hath  all  her  life 
been  of  a  docile  temper  and  gentle  disposition.  There 
are  many  who  would  say.  As  she  hath  been  so  she  will 
ever  be.  Believe  them  not.  Behind  this  meekness  there 
be  courage,  steadfastness,  nay,  obstinacy,  which,  once 
roused  by  love,  will  never  be  subdued.  All  this  may 
never  be.  They  may  never  care  the  least;  indeed,  there 
are  signs  which  lead  quite  another  way  with  her.  But 
if  God  doth  incline  their  hearts  towards  one  another, 
well,  my  dear,  I  would  thou  hadst  not  pledged  thy  word." 
"  I  have  done  more,"  Cromwell  said  quietly.  "  I  have 
sworn  it  before  God,  and  I  would  do  it  again.  You  know 
I  reverence  your  words,  but  as  you  have  said,  I  alone 
must  be  judge  of  this.  I  confess,  mother,  I  love  the 
youth,  he  mindeth  me  of  Robin;  and  though  we  have 
been  acquaint  so  short  a  time,  yet  I  would  lay  any  trust 
upon  him.  He  is  honest,  he  fears  God,  and  naught  else; 
he  brooks  not  hard  speech,  but  he  knows  when  to  obey; 
he  is  gracious  to  the  men,  but  they  do  his  bidding  on 
the  instant.  Why,  even  Reuben,  hard  old  soldier  though 
he  be,  disputes  him  not,  and,  I  can  see,  loves  him.  So 
whether  he  be  Socinian,  Episcopalian,  or  Presbyterian, 
my  heart  is,  and  will  be,  so  soft  toward  him  that  if  I  have 
not  a  care  I  could  deny  him  nothing  later  on.  This 
must  not  be.  I  will  press  no  man's  confidence.  In  God's 
good  time,  but  not  before,  we  shall  know  Ralph  Danger- 
field's  religion.  If  his  father's  unbelief  hath  gripped  him, 
which,  I  own  I  fear  may  be  the  case,  then  must  he  keep 
away  from  Rachel,  'Twas  for  this  I  took  an  oath,  and 
now  I  am  at  rest.  As  to  his  will  or  hers,  or  both,  against 
my  own,  tush!  it  is  not  will  alone  that  lovers  need.     I 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

could  find  an  hundred  ways  of  compassing-  my  ends.  It 
is  of  myself  that  I  am  afraid,  or  was;  but  I  must  leave  ye, 
and  to  my  letters  until  bed-time.  Fear  not,  dearest 
mother  "  —  he  bent  and  kissed  her  hand  —  "  God  will 
put  us  in  the  right  path.  I  pray  nightly  for  His  guidance 
in  this  as  in  all  things,  but  I  know  my  wilfulness,  and 
that  where  my  affections  take  possession  of  me  I  must 
use  the  strongest  curb  upon  myself.     Good  night." 


CHAPTER  XII 

OLIVER  CROMWELL  the  younger  was  nineteen 
years  old.  It  is  generally  an  awkward  age  for  a 
man,  and  Oliver  was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  In  stature 
he  was  fully  developed,  and  in  bodily  strength  above  the 
average  of  men.  He  was  intelligent,  and  he  had  plenty 
of  common  sense.  But  for  all  this  he  was  still  very 
young.  He  knew  little  of  the  world,  and  was  under  the 
impression  that  he  knew  everything;  he  had  only  a  rudi- 
mentary knowledge  of  things  military,  yet  felt  equal  to 
taking  a  regiment  into  action.  With  men  of  his  own  age 
he  was  inclined  to  be  overbearing,  with  older  men  argu- 
mentative. He  had  courage  and  enthusiasm  in  plenty, 
but  not  much  patience  or  self-control,  and  no  discretion 
at  all. 

Cromwell  understood  his  son  perfectly,  and  to  Oliver's 
disgust  had  procured  himi  a  cornetcy  in  a  troop  of  horse 
that  a  friend  was  about  to  raise  in  the  north  of  England, 
instead  of  following  the  usual  custom  of  the  time  and 
drafting  him  into  his  own.  Cromwell  knew  too  well  that 
for  the  work  of  the  troop  at  Ely  and  Cambridge  Oliver 
would  be  worse  than  useless.  Therefore,  upon  the  lad's 
return  from  abroad,  his  father  only  told  him  to  amuse 
himself  and  be  in  readiness  to  obey  a  summons  from  his 
commander. 

A  young  man  in  a  quiet  country-place  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  spent  his  time  much  as  he  spends  it  in  the 
nineteenth,  except  that  in  the  fens  hawking  and  fishing- 
were  the  only  forms  of  sport.  Oliver  was  a  keen  lover  of 
falconry,  of  which  art  his  father  had  been  a  past-master 
in  younger  days,  and  for  the  first  week  or  two  after  he 

io6 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

reached  home  he  was  at  it  from  dawn  to  dark.  Very 
soon,  however,  another  interest  more  engrossing  than 
sport  claimed  his  sole  attention,  and  falconry  and  fishing, 
and  even  the  welfare  of  a  favourite  mare  who  had  just 
foaled,  fell  into  the  background  and  became  of  little 
moment,  and  in  this  quiet  time  at  home  before  the  war 
Oliver's  love  for  Rachel  became  the  absorbing  passion 
of  his  life.  When  this  really  happened  it  is  hard  to  say. 
Oliver  himself  always  declared  that  it  began  when  she 
first  came  to  Ely,  a  year  ago,  but  at  this  his  family  scoffed. 
Yet,  as  Betty  could  testify,  his  eagerness  to  see  Rachel 
upon  his  return  from  abroad  was  considerable,  and  the 
long  talk  in  the  garden  afterwards  suspicious.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  a  very  short  time  passed  after  that  before  he 
set  himself  with  all  the  strength  and  ardour  of  his  grow- 
ing manhood  to  attract  her  notice  and  regard. 

He  had  not  a  very  easy  time  of  it.  His  sisters,  as  soon 
as  they  saw  what  had  happened,  threw  themselves  into 
vigorous  opposition.  Bridget  did  not  approve  of  a  man, 
though  he  was  her  brother,  seeking  anyone's  society  but 
her  own.  Men  were  a  necessity  to  Bridget,  not  to  flirt 
with  —  though  compliments  and  polite  attentions  never 
came  amiss  —  but  from  the  glimpses  she  snatched 
through  them  of  public  affairs  and  of  matters  outside  the 
dull  routine  of  house  and  home.  She  had  been  looking 
forward  to  Oliver's  return  from  foreign  parts  with  much 
eagerness,  and  when  she  found  herself  neglected  for 
Rachel  she  became  extremely  disagreeable.  Rachel  she 
left  alone,  for  after  that  first  day  even  Bridget  found  no 
cause  to  complain  that  Oliver  was  monopolised  by  her. 
It  was  upon  Oliver  himself  that  his  sister's  ill-nature 
vented  itself.  She  twitted  him  with  awkwardness  and 
clownishness  in  Rachel's  presence,  compared  him  invidi- 
ously with  Ralph  —  whom  in  her  heart  she  cordially  dis- 
liked—  and  finally  threw  every  obstacle  in  the  way  of 
tctc-a-tcte  meetings  that  she  could  invent.  But,  like  many 
another    clever    person.      Bridget    overreached    herself. 

107 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Rachel  would  have  thought  much  more  seriously  of  Oli- 
ver's little  weaknesses  had  Bridget  left  her  alone  to  find 
them  out.  Bridget's  cutting  remarks  made  her  rally  to 
his  defence,  while  the  artifices  to  prevent  or  spoil  the 
interviews  which  Oliver  had  planned  were  so  obvious, 
that  he  saw  through  them  at  once,  and  swept  them  into 
space  as  a  maid  sweeps  a  cobweb  from  the  wall. 

Betty,  child  as  she  was,  proved  more  difficult  to  deal 
with.  Her  jealousy  was  deeper  than  Bridget's,  and  she 
suffered  acutely,  for  until  Oliver  came  Rachel  had  been 
Betty's  especial  property.  So  the  girl,  with  a  pertinacity 
for  which  Oliver  longed  to  beat  her,  was  always  getting 
in  the  way,  and  drove  her  brother  nearly  frantic  by  the 
number  of  excuses  she  invented  to  spend  Rachel's  time 
unprofitably.  Betty,  however,  was  not  always  in  a  con- 
trary mood.  She  was  very  fond  of  Oliver,  and  he  had 
only  to  smile  upon  her  and  coax  a  little  beforehand  to 
make  her  his  devoted  slave  for  the  day. 

In  this  manner  July  and  the  first  three  weeks  of  Aug- 
ust passed  away,  and  Oliver,  in  spite  of  Bridget's  barbed 
arrows  and  Betty's  jealousy,  made  good  progress. 
Rachel  liked  his  company,  as  well  she  might,  for  he 
taught  her  to  ride,  and  with  Betty  took  her  a-hawking 
and  fishing,  both  of  which  sports  her  soul  delighted  in. 
Rachel  as  well  as  Bridget  sometimes  became  tired 
enough  of  housework  and  the  babies.  Oliver  hoped  that 
a  deeper  feeling  was  growing  by  degrees,  and  his  only 
complaint  was  the  extreme  difficulty  of  seeing  enough 
of  her.  Rachel  was  Cromwell's  secretary  now  in  prac- 
tice as  in  title,  and  some  hours  each  day  were  spent  in 
the  library,  and  no  attraction  that  Oliver  could  oflfer  war 
allowed  to  interfere  with  this  duty.  There  were  certain 
times,  too,  when  Oliver  suffered  acute  twinges  of  jeal- 
ousy, Ralph  had  returned  from  London  to  be  Crom- 
well's right  hand  until  the  arrival  of  the  new  lieutenant; 
and  though  this  kept  him  hard  at  work  with  the  troop  — 
drilling  recruits,  breaking  in  horses  for  cavalry  service, 

io8 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  searching  suspected  houses  for  arms  —  he  was  pres- 
ent at  many  consultations,  in  all  of  which  Rachel  had  her 
place.  Oliver  did  not  like  this,  and  as  the  day  drew 
near  when  he  was  likely  to  receive  the  summons  from 
his  captain  he  began  to  turn  over  in  his  mind  the  advisa- 
bility of  bringing  matters  to  a  climax.  Not  that  Ralph's 
presence  seriously  troubled  Oliver:  the  young  men  were 
on  excellent  terms,  and  Oliver  spent  much  fruitless 
breath  trying  to  persuade  the  cornet  to  practice  fencing 
and  wrestling  with  him,  exercises  of  which  he  was 
devotedly  fond. 

Matters  were  in  this  position  when  on  the  morning  of 
August  24th,  as  the  family  were  leaving  the  breakfast- 
table,  messengers  arrived  in  hot  haste  with  news  that  the 
Royal  Standard  had  been  raised  at  Nottingham,  and  war 
declared. 

Cromwell  read  the  letter  containing  the  intelligence 
with  a  quiet  exclamation  of  satisfaction,  handed  to  Oliver 
a  summons  to  join  his  troop,  and  then  sent  word  to  all 
the  members  of  his  household  to  meet  him  in  the  dining- 
room. 

They  filed  in,  the  men  flushed  and  excited,  the  women 
pale  and  anxious,  the  younger  maids  whimpering  and 
trembling,  until  they  saw  their  master's  face.  When  they 
had  taken  their  places  Cromwell  raised  his  hand,  and  all 
fell  silent.  Everyone  was  there:  Madam  Cromwell,  Mrs. 
Cromwell,  Rachel,  Bridget,  and  little  Betty,  Oliver  and 
Ralph  standing  together,  the  old  nurse  who  had  held 
Cromwell  in  her  arms  in  his  babyhood,  the  maids,  the 
gardener  and  his  boy,  the  grooms  from  the  stables,  and 
lastly  Reuben  Sweetlove,  a  grim,  appropriate  figure  in 
armour  and  buff  coat  leaning  on  his  sword. 

"  Friends  and  dear  ones,"  Cromwell  said,  speaking  in  a 
quiet,  even  tone,  "  the  storm  threatening  long  hath  broke 
at  last.  From  this  day  forward  every  man  who  loveth 
freedom  and  the  right,  who  believeth  that  the  law  of  God 
is  higher  than  a  king's  prerogative  will  be  branded  as  a 

log 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

traitor  and  a  rebel  and  stand  in  danger  of  his  life.  Well, 
let  this  be.  I  say,  let  it  be!  We  will  throw  back  their 
words  in  their  teeth,  not  with  tongues  but  with  the  edge 
of  the  sword;  we  will  gird  up  our  loins,  and  go  forth 
rejoicing  to  do  the  will  of  God.  I  have  no  fears  of  any 
of  you,"  looking  round  upon  the  men.  "  Ye  have  all 
given  sacred  pledges  of  your  loyalty  to  the  Parliament 
and  the  people;  ye  will  do  your  parts,  and  that  right  man- 
fully, unto  the  end.  God  bless  you!  Yet  I  would  say 
a  word,  and  this  to  the  women." 

He  took  his  mother's  hand,  and  his  voice  was  full  of 
deep  feeling.  "  Tender  hearts  and  loving  ones,  'tis  ye 
will  sufifer  most  in  the  dark  days  that  are  coming  upon 
us.  I  beseech  you,  stand  not  on  one  side  to  weaken  us 
by  tears  and  bewailings;  rather  clothe  your  faces  with 
cheerful  smiles,  and  give  us  your  strong  and  womanly 
support.  If  we  fall  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  lie  torn  and 
wounded,  who  but  ye  will  care  and  tend  us?  if  we  be  van- 
quished it  is  your  faith  that  must  cheer  our  failing  hearts; 
if  victory  crown  our  arms,  anoint  us  with  your  tender- 
ness and  patience,  so  that  we  temper  our  just  anger  with 
mercy.  Women!  God  created  ye  for  such  work.  Let 
none,  however  lowly  her  estate  or  few  her  years,  think  to 
withhold  herself  from  a  due  share  in  this  godly  strife. 
Then  indeed  will  the  Lord  preserve  us  from  all  evil;  and 
whether  our  enemies  flee  before  us,  or  take  us  in  chains 
to  prison  and  death.  He  will  preserve  our  going  out  and 
our  coming  in  from  this  time  forth,  for  ever  and  for  ever- 
more."    He  knelt  and  raised  his  hands  in  prayer. 

"  Almighty  God,  deal  with  us  as  we  deal  with  Thee. 
Though  it  be  with  our  own  brethren  that  we  dispute,  for- 
get not  that  it  is  for  Thy  sake.  Give  us  strength.  Lord, 
to  smite  them  heavily,  for  then  will  their  agony  be  short. 
Grant  that  our  commanders  be  faithful  and  single  in 
heart,  skilful  in  strategy,  courageous  and  mighty  in  bat- 
tle. Give  to  our  soldiers  the  godliness  —  not  of  lip  ser- 
vice, but  of  pure  lives.     Let  them  fear  no  evil  —  nay,  nor 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

do  it;  obey  their  leaders,  and  never  turn  their  backs  upon 
their  foe.  Ahnighty  God,  cause  the  hearts  of  our  ene- 
mies to  fail  within  them,  bring  their  counsels  to  confusion, 
turn  them  one  against  another,  until,  by  their  own  cor- 
rupt and  evil  ways,  they  are  utterly  destroyed.  Purge 
this  poor  country  of  its  humours  and  corruptions,  strike 
down  the  proud  and  wicked,  raise  up  the  humble  and 
the  godly  to  rule  the  land  and  keep  Thy  holy  Word.  We 
ask  this  for  Thy  Son's  sake.  In  His  name  we  put  our 
hands  unto  this  work,  never  to  yield,  never  to  cease  the 
strife  until  the  fight  be  won.  Amen."  He  rose  from  his 
knees.  "  This  day,  friends,  no  work  will  be  done  in  my 
house;  let  it  be  as  a  Sabbath.  Cleanse  your  hearts  of  sel- 
fish or  vain-glorious  thoughts,  and  brace  your  minds  for 
what  is  upon  us.     God  bless  you  all !  " 

The  gathering  of  servants  now  dispersed,  and  Crom- 
well drew  Oliver  aside.  "  Canst  make  a  holiday,  son, 
for  Ralph  here?  He  works  too  hard.  Take  Rachel  with 
you  and  the  puss  Betty,  and  all  of  ye  make  a  pleasure- 
day  of  it.  Neither  you  nor  he  will  have  many  more  until 
the  war  be  done." 

Oliver  promised  with  eagerness  and  Ralph  was  not 
hard  to  persuade,  and  they  presently  set  ofT  on  horseback, 
with  food  in  their  pockets,  to  make  a  picnic  to  Denny 
Abbey,  an  old  ruined  nunnery  eight  miles  out  on  the 
Cambridge  road,  Oliver  was  in  a  state  of  intense,  ill- 
repressed  excitement.  Upon  receiving  the  letter  from  his 
commander  he  had  determined  that  he  would  speak  his 
mind  to  Rachel  without  delay.  This  ride  seemed  like  a 
stroke  of  fate.  A  little  management  soon  disposed  of 
Ralph  and  Betty,  for  the  child  was  proud  of  being 
escorted  by  Master  Dangerfield,  and  Ralph  saw  from 
Oliver's  flushed  face  that  something  was  in  the  wind,  so 
he  spurred  on  briskly  with  his  chattering  companion,  and 
the  other  two  were  soon  left  some  distance  behind. 

The  instant  that  they  were  alone  Oliver  unburdened 
his  soul.     It  was  much  less  difBcult  at  that  time  for  a 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

young  man  to  propose  than  some  of  us  find  it  to-day. 
Parents  or  guardians  had  to  decide  the  matter  ultimately, 
and  it  was  often  but  a  mere  question  of  breeding  and 
good  taste  to  make  the  request  to  the  lady  herself  at  all. 
Oliver  was  aware  of  this;  but,  nevertheless,  he  was  as 
keenly  anxious  for  Rachel's  own  consent  as  the  most 
exacting  maiden  could  desire,  and  no  modern  lover  could 
have  spoken  more  earnestly. 

"  Thou  hast  been  all  things  to  me  since  I  saw  thee 
first.  Before,  I  ne'er  looked  in  a  maiden's  face  with 
pleasure;  since,  I've  not  beheld  one  so  fair.  Rachel, 
thou'rt  my  first  love  and  my  last.  What  sayest  thou? 
What  think'st  of  me?  Don't  turn  away  so,  as  if  I'd 
angered  thee.  God's  truth,  sweet,  look  up,  look  up  with 
those  true  eyes  of  thine  and  tell  me  my  fate." 

He  spoke  breathlessly,  and  bent  over  his  horse's  neck 
to  look  into  her  averted  eyes.  Slowly  she  turned  and 
faced  him,  her  cheeks  aglow,  but  her  voice  steady  and 
controlled. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you ;  I  have  never  thought  of  such  a 
thing  in  seriousness.  But  why  " —  with  a  shiver  as  of 
pain — "did  you  speak  to-day?  How  can  you  think  of 
me  or  anything  so  small  after  your  father's  words?  Oh, 
it  is  sacrilege!  " 

He  laughed  at  this  —  actually  laughed  a  ringing,  mas- 
terful laugh.  "Sacrilege,  dearest  of  hearts!  Not  that. 
Oh,  I  will  fight!  I  have  not  told  thee  that  in  a  few  days 
I  shall  be  with  my  troop.  Indeed,  that  is  why  I  speak, 
for  who  knows  when  we  may  meet  again.  But  sacrilege, 
I  will  not  have  the  word.  Thou  art  as  sacred  as  the  cause 
itself;  an'  I  fight  for  one  —  I  want  to  fight  for  both. 
That  is,  if  thou  wilt  give  me  leave,  sweetheart.  But  if 
thou  hatest  me,  Rachel  —  Dost  hate  me?    Tell  me  that." 

She  had  turned  her  head  away,  and  he  could  see  her 
hands  trembling  so  much  that  she  could  scarcely  hold  the 
reins.     Now  she  glanced  up  half  smiling. 


112 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Why  should  I  hate  you?  It  is  not  likely;  but, 
Oliver " 

"  Psha,"  he  broke  in,  "  no  buts.  I  will  have  none,  I 
say,"  and  he  laughed  again.  "  Phew,  but  my  heart  is 
lightened  of  a  load  of  care.  Thou  dost  not  hate,  then 
must  thou  like  me  —  a  little.  And  if  there  be  liking  now, 
my  faith,  but  very  soon  I  will  make  it  something  more. 
I'll  be  in  London  to-night." 

"  In  London!  "  she  said  faintly.     "Why  London?  " 

"  To  see  thine  uncle,  sweet.  Who  else?  What  he  will 
say  God  knows.  But  I  will  wrestle  with  him  as  never  I 
wrestled  in  argument  yet.  If  I  gain  his  consent  I  gain 
all.  There  be  but  my  father  then.  Pla!  see  the  baggage 
Betty  waiting  for  us  with  her  gallant  esquire.  Gad,  how 
that  man  sits  his  horse.  I'd  give  —  what  would  I  not 
give  to  ride  like  Ralph  Dangerfield." 

He  quickened  his  pace,  and  they  joined  the  others. 
All  rode  together  now  —  Oliver  in  the  highest  spirits, 
Rachel  pale  and  absent-minded.  Her  face  was  as  calm 
as  usual,  thanks  to  her  self-control,  but  her  brain  was  in  a 
whirl,  and  she  spoke  to  no  one.  Ralph  noticed  this,  and 
with  his  previous  suspicions  to  aid  him,  began  to  put  two 
and  two  together;  for  Ralph,  in  common  with  the  rest 
of  the  younger  members  of  the  family,  had  been  well 
aware  of  Oliver's  state  of  mind,  and  he  knew  that  march- 
ing orders  had  arrived  that  morning.  Had  Oliver  been 
successful?  Probably.  He  was  Cromwell's  eldest  son, 
and,  on  the  whole,  a  fine  fellow.  Rachel  had  known  him 
since  childhood,  probably.  Ralph  was  unacquainted 
with  her  history.  Oliver  would  have  money  and  a  com- 
fortable estate  by-and-by.  It  was  a  very  suitable  match. 
Ralph  told  himself  this  several  times  —  every  time, 
indeed,  that  he  glanced  at  Rachel's  face.  But  for  all  this 
he  did  not  convince  himself.  Then  he  threw  off  the 
thought  with  an  effort  and  joined  in  the  conversation 
with  the  rest.  Soon  after  this  the  abbey  was  reached  and 
the  picnic  held.  When  they  turned  homewards  Oliver, 
8  113 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

who  was  still  in  high  spirits,  but  in  a  state  of  intense  rest- 
lessness, exclaimed: — 

"  Betsy  Bunting,  what  say  to  a  race?  Thy  pony  is 
small,  but  thou'rt  a  mere  feather-weight.  Let  us  put  the 
beasts  to  speed  to  yonder  tree;  a  mile  I  judge  it  by  the 
eye.  You  people,"  nodding  at  Ralph,  "  follow  as  ye  list. 
Now,  Betsy,  off!  " 

He  gave  his  horse  the  spur,  and  Betty,  with  a  shriek 
of  delight,  cut  her  mettlesome  pony  smartly  over  the 
shoulder,  and  away  they  flew,  leaving  Ralph  and  Rachel 
pacing  leisurely  after  them. 

It  was  the  first  time  these  two  had  ever  been  alone 
together;  their  previous  meetings  had  taken  place  in 
Cromwell's  presence,  and  their  conversation  had  been 
limited  to  a  few  words  on  public  business.  Now,  as 
their  horses  ambled  homewards,  both  felt  that  in  some 
subtle  way  their  relationship  had  altered.  They  were 
friends  —  had  been  friends  for  a  long  time.  Rachel  gave 
expression  to  the  thought  by  saying: — 

"  Did  Madam  Cromwell  ever  give  you  invitation  to 
visit  her?  Pardon  the  question;  but  she  hath  so  often 
spoken  of  you  and  wished  to  see  you,  that  I  determined 
I  would  ask  when  I  had  the  opportunity." 

Ralph  looked  up  with  a  pleased  smile.  It  might  be 
but  a  little  thing  that  an  old  lady  who  had  known  his 
grandfather  wished  to  see  him,  but  to  one  so  lonely  it 
seemed  a  great  deal. 

"  She  hath  not  directly,  or  you  may  be  sure  I  would 
have  waited  on  her  long  ago.  Something,  indeed,  was 
dropped;  but  I  did  not  w^ish  " — he  looked  a  little  grim, 
and  Rachel  wondered  whether  he  was  thinking  of  her 
uncle  — "  I  did  not  wish  to  run  the  least  risk  of  an  intru- 
sion.    I  will  go  to-night  if  you  advise  it." 

"  I  do.     She  loved  your  father  as  a  son." 

His  face  lighted  up  again,  and  Rachel  saw  she  had 
struck  the  right  note. 

"  It  might  well  be ;  father  was  the  most  lovable  of  men, 

ri4 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

though  I  say  so.  I  wish  you  had  known  him,  Mistress 
Rachel." 

He  spoke  with  frank  impetuosity. 

"  I  would  I  had,  indeed.  I  know  what  you  must  have 
felt  at  his  death.  My  father  was  killed,  and  he  was  every- 
thing- to  me! " 

"  Your  father? "  Ralph  spoke  in  a  tone  of  genuine 
interest.  "  What  was  he?  What  did  he  suffer  for?  Nay, 
then,"  as  he  saw  his  companion  wince,  "  I  sincerely  beg 
your  pardon  if  I  hurt  you ;  but  it  is  surely  a  strange  coin- 
cidence. Some  time,"  he  spoke  now  in  his  gentlest  and 
most  persuasive  tone,  "  perchance,  I  may  be  so  far 
favoured  as  to  hear  of  him.  Now,  I  trust  you  will  grant 
me  forgiveness  for  the  question." 

"  You  are  very  kind.  It  does  not  hurt  me  to  speak  of 
it  —  at  least,  it  will  not  to  tell  you,  who  have  suffered 
also.  I  ought  not  to  be  so  sensitive,  but  it  is  my  nature 
to  shrink  from  pain.     It  all  came  about  in  this  wise." 

And  then  she  told  him  the  whole  story,  and  afterwards, 
from  questions  which  naturally  arose  out  of  the  narrative, 
he  heard  much  about  her  life;  and  so  engrossed  were 
they  both  in  the  conversation,  that  they  were  surprised 
to  find  the  journey  over,  and  to  see  Oliver  waiting  on 
the  doorstep  to  lift  Rachel  from  her  horse. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  weather  was  hot  and  the  roads  were  dusty  and 
Oliver  weighed  twelve  stone;  but  neither  thirst  nor 
heat  nor  the  sufferings  of  his  horse  kept  him  to  a  mod- 
erate pace ;  and  two  days  after  he  spoke  to  Rachel  he  rode 
back  from  London  just  before  the  party  met  at  supper, 
covered  with  dust,  very  tired,  and  hugely  hungry,  but 
so  radiant  that  those  not  in  the  secret  wondered  what 
had  happened  to  him.  Ralph  found  a  curious  fascina- 
tion in  watching  the  young  man  and  his  beaming  glances 
at  Rachel.  Success  was  written  on  his  face,  and  his 
laugh  —  as  he  told  comical  stories  of  the  terror  of  cer- 
tain London  citizens  at  the  news  from  Nottingham  — 
never  had  Ralph  heard  so  joyous  a  laugh.  A  fortunate 
3'outli  this,  with  such  a  father  as  few  men  possessed  and 
mother  and  sisters  to  love  him.  Ralph  now  began  to 
look  at  Rachel  out  of  the  corners  of  his  eyes.  What  a 
sweet  face  it  was.  Did  she  really  love  this  man?  He 
was  honest  and  well-intentioned,  but  how  rough  —  rude 
as  any  farmer.  Then  Ralph  bit  his  lip  and  frowned  at 
himself.  "  Am  I  jealous?  That  must  not  be.  Love  and 
marriage,  even  were  they  in  my  grasp,  would  be  impos- 
sible until  this  war  were  done  with  —  the  war  that  hath 
not  begun.  Nay,  may  the  fellow  have  good  fortune.  He 
hath  a  true  heart.  Whatever  betide,  I  will  be  no  dog-in- 
the-manger." 

And  then  he  devoted  himself  to  his  supper,  and  looked 
neither  to  right  nor  left  until  all  rose  from  the  table, 
when,  as  his  habit  was,  he  retired  to  the  garden  and 
walked  up  and  down  the  paths  alone.    He  had  not  taken 


ii6 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

more  than  two  or  three  turns  before  he  met  Cromwell 
and  Oliver  arm-in-arm. 

"  You  Ralph !  "  the  elder  man  said  as  they  passed.  "  A 
wonted  run  of  yours,  this  place.  A  right  good  place,  too, 
these  hot  nights.  Come,  son,  to  the  arbour  and  have 
thy  say  out  there." 

He  drew  his  hand  from  Oliver's  arm  and  leant  afifec- 
tionately  upon  his  shoulder,  and  Ralph  saw  them  disap- 
pear in  the  summer-house,  and  heard  Oliver  begin  to 
speak  in  tense,  earnest  tones.  Then  he  turned  resolutely 
away  and  went  to  bed. 

In  the  arbour  the  father  and  son  had  seated  them- 
selves, and  Oliver,  leaning  his  arms  on  a  table  in  the 
centre,  plunged  into  his  subject  as  a  bold  swimmer  leaps 
into  the  sea. 

"  It  is  this,  father.  I  am  in  love,  and  want  thy  consent 
to  my  betrothal  before  I  joint  my  troop.  Faith!  'tis  a 
match  after  thine  own  heart."  He  paused  with  a  happy 
laugh,  then  tried  hard  to  make  out  the  expression  of 
his  father's  face.  But  this  he  could  not  do.  Cromwell 
was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the  west,  and  the  light  was 
failing  fast. 

"Thy  news  is  startling,  son.    Who  is  the  maiden?" 

"Why,  Rachel!"  He  threw  back  his  head  to  laugh 
again,  when  Cromwell  brought  his  hand  down  upon  the 
table  with  a  blow  that  made  it  quiver. 

"  Thou'rt  fooling  me.     Rachel  betrothed  to  thcc?  " 

Oliver  went  cold  all  over,  and  forgot  his  manners. 

"Who  else?    Zounds,  sir,  what  mean  you?" 

A  mom.entary  pause.    Then  Cromwell  said  slowly: — 

"  Naught,  lad.  I  am  but  taken  by  surprise.  Thy 
mother  is  right,  my  mind  is  too  far  from  home  these 
days.  But  thou  hast  been  uncommon  speedy  in  thy 
wooing.     Hast  spoken  to  the  maid  herself?  " 

"  I  did  that  first." 

"When?" 

"  Two  days  since." 

117 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  The  answer,  then  ?  " 

Ohver  cleared  his  throat.  "  Well,  there  was  none  to 
be  called  an  answer.  She  hates  me  not  "  —  this  was  said 
slowly,  with  great  complacency  —  "  nay,  she  likes  me, 
so  straightway  I  rode  to  her  uncle  and  put  the  question 
to  him," 

"What  said  he?" 

There  was  a  coolness,  not  to  say  indifference,  in  the 
way  that  this  question  was  asked  which  Oliver  noted 
with  surprise. 

"  Gave  consent,  thank  God !  I  was  to  speak  to  you, 
of  course,  and  "  —  Oliver  coughed  again  —  "a  final  con- 
firmation was  to  wait  until  the  matter  of  settlement  and 
dowry  was  arranged,  but  nothing  more.  Truly,  sir,  I 
think  the  worthy  gentleman  was  something  pleased.  He 
spake  me  very  kind,  indeed  he  did." 

He  stopped,  and  there  was  a  long  silence.  This  was 
terrible  to  Oliver. 

"Father,  have  I  angered  you?  Say  something! 
'Slife,  I  can't  endure  this." 

Cromwell  started  as  if  he  had  been  roused  from  deep 
thought. 

"Angry,  boy!  Tush,  how  could  I  be?  I  am  pray- 
ing for  guidance.  Thou  hast  placed  me  in  a  strange 
position.  As  thy  father  I  might  say  '  Yea  '  freely.  Rachel 
is  one  in  a  thousand  —  a  pearl  beyond  price.  Wait  "  — 
as  Oliver  gave  a  joyful  assent  —  "I  say  wait  and 
hearken."  His  voice  was  now  stern  and  harsh.  "  Though 
I  am  thy  father,  I  am  her  guardian  first  —  forget  not 
that." 

"  Master  Hepworth  consents,"  Oliver  began  vehe- 
mently. 

"  That  is  his  affair,"  his  father  rejoined  in  the  same 
tone.  "  You  deal  not  with  him  now.  Be  not  so  froward 
with  me,  I  must  have  time  to  consider  the  matter.  I 
shall  see  the  maid  to-morrow,  and  then  you  and  I  will 
have  further  speech  together.    Meantime  you  must  hold 

ii8 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

yourself  aloof,  and  neither  see  nor  speak  to  her.  It  will 
be  best,  perhaps,  if  you  take  breakfast  in  your  chamber." 

Oliver  gasped. 

"  Good  Lord,  sir,"  he  groaned,  "  must  we  wait  so  long? 
See,  it  is  not  late.  She  knows  my  mind;  let  me  bring 
her  to  you.  It  is  hard  measure  to  make  me  wait  another 
night." 

He  spoke  now  in  a  tone  few  sons  of  that  time  dared 
to  use  toward  their  parents;  but  it  had  been  Cromwell's 
principle  to  encourage  in  his  children  the  utmost  free- 
dom of  speech,  as  in  later  days  he  did  with  his  soldiers. 
He  valued  the  knowledge  this  gave  him  far  more  than 
the  most  respectful  form  of  address.  There  were  times, 
however,  when  he  was  not  in  the  mood  for  it. 

"  Enough,"  he  said ;  "  would  you  dictate  to  me,  then, 
in  this  matter?  Be  silent,  and  go  to  your  chamber. 
Think  you  that  I  have  naught  to  consider  but  this  fancy 
of  yours  —  the  fancy  of  a  week?  Love,  quotha?  Before 
the  passion  for  a  woman  deserves  that  sacred  name  there 
must  be  trial  —  prayers  to  God,  great  searchings  of  the 
heart.  Dost  think  thy  sudden  humour  a  worthy  bargain 
for  a  woman's  life?  " 

" 'Tis  no  humour,"  Oliver  muttered;  "I  have  loved 
her  from  our  first  acquaintance." 

"  You  say  so.  I  reply  that  must  be  proved  by  deeds. 
Come  in." 

They  walked  down  the  garden  slowly,  Oliver's  head 
sunk  between  his  shoulders,  his  fingers  fumbling  with 
the  buckle  of  his  sword-belt,  and  his  feet  dragging 
despondently.  His  father  accompanied  him  to  his  room, 
saying  as  he  bid  him  good  night: — 

"  Thou'rt  a  very  foolish  fellow,  on  my  life.  Is  thy 
back  so  weak  that  the  first  weight  breaks  it?  I'd  not 
have  thought  thee  such  a  faint  heart." 

"My  back  be  tough  enough,"  Oliver  retorted;  "but  it 
is  hard  to  miss  your  sympathy  when  I'd  been  most  sure 
of  it." 

119 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Cromwell  laid  a  hand  upon  his  arm  and  shook  it. 

"  I  protest  I  have  no  patience  with  thee.  Know'st  me 
so  little?  Nay,  lad,  I've  no  lack  of  sympathy.  I  loved 
and  lost  once.  I  was  young  as  you,  but  I  do  not  forget 
the  pain  of  it.  Go,  lay  thy  head  upon  thy  pillow  and 
dream  of  her,  to-morrow  thou  shalt  know  my  mind;  but 
hold  to  this  room  till  I  see  you.  Take  your  Bible, 
methinks  you  do  not  often  study  it;  read  and  ponder  well, 
it  is  the  best  comforter  for  a  sore  heart.  When  thou  art 
as  old  as  I  am  mayhap  it  will  be  thine  only  one." 

He  sighed,  patted  Oliver's  shoulder  affectionately,  and 
walked  away.  In  the  library  he  found  Rachel  waiting 
with  a  pile  of  letters.  He  took  them  from  her  and  pre- 
tended to  read,  studying  her  face  the  while.  She  was 
pale,  he  noticed,  and  more  silent  than  usual,  but  he  could 
not  detect  either  nervousness  or  self-consciousness  in  her 
manner.  By-and-by  he  threw  himself  into  his  work,  dic- 
tating some  letters  and  sending  Rachel  to  the  kitchen 
to  arrange  for  their  immediate  despatch.  When  the  girl 
returned  she  found  him  studying  the  portrait  of  his  dead 
son.  He  was  so  lost  in  meditation  that  he  did  not  hear 
her  enter,  and  in  his  face,  though  he  was  frowning  as  if 
from  some  disagreeable  thought,  there  was  a  sadness  and 
a  yearning  that  touched  her  to  the  heart. 

"  It  is  a  beautiful  portrait,"  she  said  softly,  slipping  her 
hand  into  his.  "  I  used  to  wonder,  when  I  first  came, 
whether  I  would  ever  see  him.  When  I  heard  the  truth 
I  wept;  'twas  as  if  I  had  lost  a  friend." 

Cromwell  pressed  her  hand,  and  his  brow  became 
smooth  again. 

"  That  was  strange,  little  one,  was  it  not,  for  thou'rt 
not  given  to  tears." 

"  I  should  not  be  so  foolish  now,"  Rachel  said  hastily. 
"  It  was  months  ago,  when  I  was  lonely  and  longed  for  a 
brother.  There  was  something  in  Robert's  face  which 
has  always  stirred  me;  had  he  lived  I  would  have  loved 
him  with  my  whole  heart." 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Cromwell  gave  a  slight  start,  and  the  fancied  likeness 
he  had  once  traced  between  Robert  and  Ralph  came  back 
to  him  with  some  force.     He  said  drily: — 

"  What  see  you  in  this  face  to  love  in  particular?  " 

"  Earnestness  and  courage,"  she  cried,  with  an  empha- 
sis which  made  Cromwell  wince  again.  "  He  would  have 
done  the  right,  and  would  ever  think  it.  If  he  heard  or 
saw  aught  that  was  unjust  to  others  he  would  not  have 
passed  it  by,  but  have  fought  it  to  the  death." 

"  See  you  that  in  the  portrait?  It  was  there  truly  in 
the  boy.  Hast  ever  seen  a  face  that  reminded  you  of 
his?" 

Rachel  shook  her  head, 

"  None  —  unless,"  she  smiled,  and  Cromwell  bit  his 
lip  — "  unless  it  be  your  own," 

"Pish!  what  other?" 

"  Not  one  that  I  could  call  to  mind;  no  one." 

"Not  Oliver's?" 

He  put  the  question  brusquely,  and  Rachel  blushed 
to  the  tip  of  her  ears,  yet  she  faced  him  bravely. 

"  No,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  not  Oliver's,  dear  sir." 

Cromwell  led  her  to  a  chair  and  drew  another  up  to  it. 

"  Rest  you  there,  child.  Now  grant  me,  if  thou  canst, 
a  true  insight  into  your  mind;  cloak  not  your  feelings 
with  any  simperings  or  modest  silences;  there  is  naught 
in  honest  love  for  man  or  maid  to  be  ashamed;  dost  know 
that  Oliver  has  been  both  to  your  uncle  and  to  me  to 
declare  his  love  for  you?  " 

"  I  do  know  it,  sir." 

"  When  did  he  speak  to  you?  " 

"  Two  days  ago." 

"  And  your  answer?  " 

Rachel  hesitated  a  moment. 

Cromwell  frowned.  "  Hath  played  the  coquette  with 
him  then?" 

The  girl  opened  her  eyes  in  amazement.  "  Indeed,  I 
know  not  what  you  mean." 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Then,  little  one,  what  answer  did  you  make  the  lad?" 

Rachel  looked  perplexed.  "  He  got  none  that  I 
remember;  there  was  no  time.  I  was  so  startled  that  my 
breath  forsook  me,  and  before  it  returned  we  were  not 
alone,  nor  have  we  been  since.  He  left  me  saying  he 
would  speak  to  you  and  my  uncle." 

Cromwell  took  her  hand.  "  Then  answer  me.  It  is 
much  to  ask,  for  I  am  rude  and  harsh;  but  you  know  I 
love  you.  Tell  me,  dost  care  for  the  lad?  Wouldst  be 
his  wife?  " 

Rachel  looked  up  without  hesitation  and  said :  "  I  do 
not  know.  He  has  been  my  friend  a  great  while.  He  is 
dear  to  me,  and  —  and  he  is  your  son.  Yet  I  have  not 
thought  of  him  in  such  a  way.  I  have  thought  of  no  one. 
But,  then,  it  would  not  be  meet,  I  suppose,  for  me  to 
judge  such  things.  Your  wishes  and  my  uncle's  must 
guide  me.     What,  dear  sir,  do  you  wish  me  to  do?" 

She  spoke  quite  frankly  —  no  blushes,  no  confusion. 
Cromwell  was  rather  taken  aback. 

"  What  age  are  you?" 

"  Eighteen  and  six  months." 

"  Young,"  he  muttered.     "  Yet  not  so  young." 

"Tell  me,"  he  said  aloud,  "tell  me  this:  Were  neither 
myself  nor  thy  uncle  concerned  here,  and  thou  free  to 
follow  thy  inclination,  what  answer  would  Master  Oliver 
receive?" 

Rachel  considered.  "  I  would  tell  him,"  she  said 
thoughtfully,  "  that  he  would  do  ill  to  have  me  for  a  wife, 
that  he  should  seek  a  maid  who  loves  him  ten  times 
more." 

"  And  if  he  would  not  give  you  up,  what  then?  " 

"  Then  —  then  —  well,  I  would  insist  that  he  should 
wait  until  he  had  seen  others.  He  said  he  knew  none 
but  me." 

,     "  And  if  after  absence  he  presently  returned  loving  thee 
more  than  ever,  what  then?" 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Then  " —  very  gravely  — "  I  would  marry  him.  That 
would  be  naught  but  fair." 

Cromwell  rose  and  kissed  her.  "  I  thank  thee,  sweet 
daughter;  thou  hast  taken  a  burden  from  my  mind.  Now 
we  will  go  to  our  rest.     It  is  late." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

CROMWELL  did  not  find  Oliver  reading  his  Bible 
next  morning,  but  sitting  on  his  bed,  with  bare 
arms,  vigorously  polishing  a  rapier.  So  intent  was  he 
upon  his  occupation,  that,  at  his  father's  entrance,  he 
only  waved  it  in  the  air  by  way  of  greeting,  and  let  the 
sunlight  glitter  on  the  burnished  steel. 

"What  think'st  of  this,  sir?  Six  shillings  was  the  price; 
'i  faith,  a  bargain!  Look  at  its  temper;  see  when  I 
breathe  upon  it.    A  genuine  Toledo,  as  I  live." 

"  A  pretty  weapon,"  Cromwell  said  critically,  "  but  no 
more  use  these  times,  son,  than  thy  mother's  bodkin." 

"  Say  you  so?  See  here,  then,"  and  Oliver  sprang 
from  the  bed,  and  pinked  in  the  centre  a  round  pad  of 
leather  he  had  nailed  to  the  wall.  "  Sa  —  sa  —  methinks 
a  malignant  had  need  of  jointless  armour  and  visor  closed 
were  he  to  challenge  me  without  danger  to  his  skin. 
Even  then,  sooth,  I'd  find  a  way  to  his  brain,  an'  he 
had  one,  between  the  bars.  No,  no,  I'll  grant  you  that 
in  the  push  and  moil  of  battle  the  heavy  broadsword 
is  the  fitter  weapon;  but  on  foot  give  me  a  rapier  if  I 
have  room.  Faith!  an'  we  but  lived  in  the  days  when  a 
war  was  often  left  to  single  combat,  I'd  challenge  the 
king's  best  knight,  and,  so  that  Rachel's  eyes  were  upon 
me,  'twould  go  hard  indeed  if  the  godly  cause  went 
down  —  sa  —  sa." 

He  made  another  pass,  recovered  himself  with  a  flour- 
ish, and  threw  the  rapier  upon  the  bed. 

"  I  am  out  of  training,  sure.  If  your  cornet  was  not 
so  occupied  we'd  have  some  rare  turns  together.     He 

124 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

hath  a  pretty  skill  by  all  accounts.  I'd  give  much  to 
measure  swords  with  him.  Eh  —  hark  to  that!  Father, 
hast  spoken?  " 

The  window  was  open,  and  now  the  sound  of  voices, 
Rachel's  and  Betty's,  came  from  the  garden,  and  fencing 
was  forgotten. 

Cromwell  closed  the  window. 

"Aye;  but  the  fruit  is  not  ripe  yet,  boy,  for  thee  or 
any  man.  The  flower's  i'  the  bud  at  present  —  the 
woman's  but  a  child.    You  must  wait." 

"  I  cannot  wait." 

"  I  tell  thee,"  Cromwell  said  very  gently,  while  upon 
his  face  there  came  a  sternness  that  his  children  seldom 
saw,  "  thou  must  wait  and  pray.  Her  heart  is  younger 
than  her  mind.  I'd  not  have  believed,  had  I  not  seen,  that 
a  woman  of  her  years  and  wit  could  be  so  simple;  but  this 
is  so.  Wherefore,  what  sayest  thou?  "  Oliver  had  cast 
himself  down  upon  the  bed  with  an  exclamation  very  like 
a  curse.  "  Tell  me  your  thought,"  his  father  said  sternly; 
"  out  with  it." 

"  Willingly,  sir,"  and  the  young  man  sprang  up,  his 
face  red  with  passion.  "  I  said  to  myself  that  if  her 
simplicity  be  the  check,  I'd  soon  remove  it;  and  I  will, 
be  sure  of  that." 

Cromwell's  face  darkened. 

"  Wouldst  play  the  braggart,  then,  and  with  me?" 
He  spoke  slowly  and  contemptuously.  "  Thou  art  indeed 
a  fool!" 

Oliver  writhed. 

"And  thou  a  tyrant!"  he  cried  defiantly.  "I  love 
the  maid,  and  honestly.  At  cost  of  sweat  and  trouble, 
an'  a  good  horse,  I  obtained  consent  from  her  uncle; 
yet  when  I  come  to  you  —  my  father  —  I  am  received 
with  black  looks  and  a  refusal!  Zounds,  sir,  be  there 
another  suitor  more  favoured  in  your  sight  than  me? 
God's  life,  I  do  believe  it!  Thy  cornet,  perchance, 
Dangerfield  —  this  Socinian  devil !  " 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Hold  thy  peace!"  Cromwell's  face  was  white. 
"  Another  word,"  he  said  in  a  dry,  strained  tone,  "  and 
the  Lord  have  mercy  on  us  both."  He  paused,  while 
Oliver  hung  his  head,  abashed.  "  Son,"  continued  Crom- 
well, "  what  mean  you  by  such  insinuations?  Hath  life 
in  Holland  —  a  few  months  out  i'  the  world  —  sowed 
such  corruption  in  thy  nature,  that  at  the  first  cross  to 
thy  wishes  thou  wouldst  rend  like  a  wolf-cub  thine  own 
father!  What  have  I  done  ever  to  deserve  this  from 
thee?    That  first  —  answer!  " 

Oliver  lowered  his  eyes.  The  gust  of  passion  had 
passed.  "  I  was  distraught,"  he  muttered;  "  I  knew  not 
what  I  said.     But  you  tried  me  very  sore." 

"  I  told  you  the  truth.  Now,  hearken.  Take  thy  case 
and  hold  it  to  the  light.  The  Presbyter  gave  consent, 
and  you  argue  that  Rachel  and  I  must  needs  bend  the 
knee  without  question  to  thy  midsummer  madness  and 
his  weak  and  selfish  fears.  Is  this  indeed  true?  Well, 
I  knew  thy  spirit  to  be  ever  impatient  and  self-willed, 
but  I  did  not  until  now  expect  conduct  so  ungenerous 
from  thee." 

Oliver  winced.  "  You  lash  me  unjustly,  father.  How 
is  it  ungenerous  to  offer  all  I  have?  Faith,  no  man  can 
offer  more." 

"  A  man,"  was  the  stern  rejoinder,  "  should  scorn  to 
seek  a  woman's  hand  unless  he  gain  her  whole  heart  in 
return." 

"  I  will  gain  it." 

"  In  what  manner?  " 

"  My  love  will  compel  return." 

''  Love!  Have  I  not  told  thee  that  is  not  the  word 
to  use.  Choose  some  meaner  one.  Love  is  humble. 
Thou'rt  arrogant,  nay,  impudent.  This  maiden,  quotha, 
must  bind  herself  to  thee,  promise  to  give  herself  into 
thy  keeping,  because  thou  desirest  her.  She  hath  no  wish 
to  call  thee  husband,  mind  you  that!    How  then?    Wilt 


126 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

force  a  cold,  unwilling  hand  into  your  own  and  say, 
'  This  is  mine  '?  " 

"  I  want  —  I  want  to  win  her  love,  I  say." 

"  That  is  better.  Those  words  ring  true.  But,  an' 
you  mean  them,  think  you  that  this  is  like  to  bring  your 
suit  to  a  successful  issue?  Nay,  lad,"  his  voice  was  earn- 
est now,  and  tender,  "  put  aside  the  hunger  of  thy  heart. 
Think  but  of  her,  then  answer." 

Oliver's  face  worked. 

"I  —  I'll  obey  thy  wish." 

"  That  I  believe.  But  my  question  is  not  answered. 
How  wouldst  thou,  my  wish  apart,  win  this  maiden's 
love.     Believe  me,  it  is  not  to  be  lightly  won." 

Oliver  sighed,  and  sat  slowly  down  upon  his  bed 
again. 

"  I  will  be  patient,  then.  Aye,  I  see  now  it  is  the 
only  way.  I  want  no  promise  from  her.  But  she  must 
know  beyond  mistake  that  I  truly  love  her,  and  intend, 
God  willing,  to  make  her  my  wife  some  day  —  if  she  will 
have  me.  That  is  all  I  would  say.  Every  word  could 
be  spoken  in  your  presence." 

Cromwell  was  touched.  He  clapped  his  son  on  the 
shoulder  and  his  brow  cleared. 

"  Go,  then,  and  fetch  her.  Nay,  I  mean  it,"  as  Oliver 
stared;  "bring  her  to  the  library.  Speak  thy  mind 
there." 

No  second  bidding  was  needed.  Oliver  left  the  bed 
at  a  bound  and  had  reached  the  door,  when  a  laugh 
from  his  father  made  him  suddenly  recollect  his  bare 
arms  and  ungartered  hose. 

"  My  faith,  good  cornet  of  Nat  Walton's  horse, 
prithee  be  more  careful.  If  thy  namesake  uncle,  the 
knight,  were  to  hear  thou  wert  starting  forth  in  such 
guise  to  court  a  maiden  he  would  die  in  a  fit.  Fie  on 
thy  want  of  gallantry!  Yet,  indeed,  I  like  it,"  Crom- 
well added  to  himself  after  Oliver  had  left  the  room. 
"  He  is  as  simple  in  his  way  as  the  maiden  is  in  hers. 

127 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Pure  in  heart  and  strong  of  arm.  Knights,  quotha! 
Set  him  and  Ralph  yonder  side  by  side,  and  I  warrant 
those  gallants  round  the  king  would  be  put  to  it  to  find 
their  match.     Now  to  see  them  together." 

Down  the  garden-walk  strode  Oliver,  and  his  father 
smiled  at  the  sweeping  bow  with  which  he  greeted  Rachel 
as  she  stood  with  Betty  gathering  flowers,  and  the 
unwonted  deference  in  his  attitude  when  he  delivered  his 
message. 

"  I  should  chide  him  by  rights,"  Cromwell  muttered. 
"  Hepworth  would  say  'twas  aping  the  cavaliers.  Pish, 
how  these  godly  men  do  prate!  I  love  to  see  the  man- 
ner of  a  lusty  lad  to  a  dainty  maid.  Here  they  come. 
My  word,  how  he  ruffles  it!  How  he'd  love  a  duello  in 
her  defence.  Ah !  love  —  when  the  man  is  young  and 
the  maid  be  fair  and  'tis  summer-time  —  no  joy  upon 
God's  earth  can  equal  it;  none." 

He  sighed,  and  for  a  moment  there  was  an  unwonted 
softness  in  his  face.  An  instant  later  his  eyes  were  watch- 
ful again.  He  strode  to  the  window  and  looked  out,  rest- 
ing his  chin  reflectively  upon  his  hand. 

The  girls  had  been  plucking  flowers  from  a  bed  at  the 
lower  end  of  the  garden,  and  as  Rachel  obeyed  Oliver's 
summons,  Betty  was  left  behind  disconsolate  and  jealous. 
Suddenly  she  brightened  and  ran  towards  someone  who 
had  entered  the  garden  by  the  back  gate  —  Ralph. 

"  Greet  ye,  greet  ye,"  she  cried  joyfully.  "  You  have 
come  just  in  time  to  be  my  company.  Here  am  I  set  to 
gather  a  heap  of  posies  for  grandmamma,  while  this 
Rachel,  who  should  help  me,  follows  Oliver.  Do  not  say 
now  that  you  will  desert  me  too.     I  need  your  help  here." 

Ralph  smiled  at  this  imperative  hint,  but  his  eyes  fol- 
lowed the  two  figures  with  an  anxious  glance. 

"  I  fear  I  cannot  stay,  little  mistress ;  I  seek  your 
father.     Is  he  in  the  house?  " 

"Yes;  but,  oh,  do  not  follow  them!"  as  Ralph  turned 
away.     "  I  heard  Oliver  tell  Rachel  that  father  wished  to 

12S 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

see  her.  He  said  not  why,  but  he  was  so  solemn  and  she 
bkished  so  that  I  know  there  is  something  brewing. 
You  cannot  see  him  yet.  Now,  pray  lift  that  flower-pot 
for  me,  'tis  too  heavy  for  my  wrist."  The  command  was 
not  to  be  evaded,  and  Ralph  obeyed.  But  he  looked  after 
the  retreating  couple  wistfully  until  they  disappeared  into 
the  house,  and  Betty  wondered  why  he  looked  so  grave. 
As  the  young  people  entered  the  passage  Cromwell  left 
the  window. 

"Turn  his  thoughts  toward  the  maid,  then?"  he 
thought.  "It  may  well  be  so.  Pity!  What  a  pity! 
God  have  mercy  upon  his  father's  soul! " 


CHAPTER  XV 

THOUGH  Oliver  had  declared  in  the  fulness  of  his 
heart  that  all  he  wished  to  say  to  Rachel  could  be 
told  in  the  presence  of  a  third  person,  when  it  came  to  the 
point  he  devoutly  wished  his  father  at  the  other  side  of 
the  library  door. 

"  This  son  of  mine,"  Cromwell  said,  taking  Rachel  by 
the  hand,  "  hath  somewhat  to  say  touching  yourself  which 
I  desired  him  to  say  before  me.  Make  such  answer  as 
your  inclination  prompts.     Oliver,  speak  thy  mind." 

Oliver  blushed  and  coughed.     Then  he  blurted  out: — 

"  I  wish.  Mistress  Rachel,  that  is,  I  would  fain  inquire 
—  Lord!  but  I  am  making  a  sorry  mess  of  this.  Dearest 
of  hearts,  dost  love  me?  There's  the  point.  I  only  ask 
a  little  love.  I  have  so  much  for  thee!  Wilt  be 
betrothed,  and  one  day  have  me  for  a  husband?  I  gave 
you  Master  Hepworth's  letter;  my  father  hath  spoken  to 
you;  you  know  my  heart.  All  that  is  left  for  me  is  to 
learn  your  feelings.     God  grant  they  be  favourable." 

His  voice  became  more  and  more  vehement  as  he 
went  on,  and  at  the  end  he  approached  her  with  eager 
invitation,  but  Rachel  drew  back. 

"  I  cannot  —  I  cannot,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  looking 
at  him  at  the  same  time  so  wistfully  that  he  fairly  groaned 
with  a  desire  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms,  kiss  away  the  gath- 
ering tears,  and  laugh  her  doubts  to  scorn.  "  It  grieves 
me  sorely  to  say  aught  to  give  you  pain.  But  —  oh! 
how  shall  I  express  my  meaning  aright?  —  though  I  love 
you,  it  is  but  as  a  brother.  I  know  it  be  no  more  now. 
I  have  never  thought  of  lovers;  I  cannot  give  my  heart 
as  you  give  yours,  for  I  have  none  to  give." 

130 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

The  tears  welled  over,  for  Oliver's  face  was  the  pic- 
ture of  despair.  In  a  moment  he  would  have  been  at  her 
side,  but  a  restraining  hand  grasped  him  firmly. 

"  Be  a  man,  son,"  his  father  said,  "  or  thou'lt  lose  thy 
chance  for  life.  Whatsoever  she  may  say  now,  I'll  not 
give  my  consent.  Courage,  Rachel,  thou  speakest  with 
sense  and  judgment.     Give  him  no  promises." 

She  looked  up  gratefully. 

"  You  make  my  way  easy,  sir.  But,  Oliver,  I  would 
not  have  you  think  —  I  would  you  should  understand 
that  I  feel  deeply  all  you  have  said.  Do  you  catch  my 
meaning?  Alas!  how  can  I  make  it  clear?  I  need  your 
friendship,  but  I  cannot  take  your  love." 

Again  she  turned  to  him  appealingly,  and  this  time  all 
that  was  best  in  his  nature  responded. 

"  Dear  mistress,"  he  said  slowly  and  gravely,  "  I 
beg  your  forgiveness.  'Deed,  I  am  rude  and  blundering. 
Let  me  wait,  then,  and  serve  thee  as  a  friend.  If  thou 
canst  allow  that  I'll  be  happy,  or  at  least  content.  I  ask 
no  more  now." 

Her  face  brightened.  "That  is  what  I  wish  —  just 
what  I  wish,  if " —  turning  to  Cromwell  — "  it  meets  with 
your  consent." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  after  a  pause.  "  See  thou  keep 
thy  compact,  son.  And  remember,  friendship  be  not 
love." 

Oliver  sighed. 

"  That,  indeed,  I  am  not  like  to  forget.  Anyway,  I 
depart  to-morrow  at  dawn.  Heigho!  But,  Rachel,  I 
would  like  thy  company  to-day.  Wilt  have  a  ride,  if  we 
take  Betty?  Grandmamma  will  spare  you  this  morning, 
I'll  be  sworn  —  my  last  day." 

Rachel  looked  at  her  guardian,  and  she  saw  there  was 
pleasure  in  his  face.     He  laughed. 

"  Nay,  I  have  no  fears.  Betty  is  good  company.  Tell 
Ralph,  if  you  see  him,  that  I  have  matters  requiring  his 


131 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

attention  here.  Now  be  off,  young  people,  and  get  to 
your  saddles." 

They  were  soon  upon  their  way  —  Oliver  and  Rachel 
rather  quieter  than  usual,  Betty  in  the  highest  spirits.  Of 
a  sudden  the  child  paused  in  her  merry  chatter  and 
heaved  a  portentous  sigh. 

"Mercy!  What  ails  the  baggage?"  Oliver  exclaimed, 
laughing. 

Betty  sighed  again. 

"We  are  on  the  path  I  rode  with  Ralph  three  days 
ago.     I  wish  he  were  with  us." 

"Say  you  so?  Ton  my  honour,  I  had  better  gallop 
home,  then,  and  tell  him  to  follow.  But  to  be  serious, 
methinks,  chit,  you  are  somewhat  too  free  with  the  cor- 
net's Christian  name." 

"  I  see  not  why,"  was  the  tart  rejoinder.  "  Rachel 
hath  called  him  so.  Yes,  ma'am,  I  heard  you  once. 
Master  Dangerfield  is  far  too  big  a  mouthful.  Besides, 
I  knew  him  first.  I  pray  for  him  —  father  gave  me 
leave.  And,  oh,  when  I  heard  what  the  minister  said 
afterwards  I  have  wished  to  tell  Ralph  that,  whatever 
his  religion,  he  was  very  dear  to  me.  I  will  tell  him 
some  day." 

"  Nay,  tell  Master  Hepworth,"  Oliver  cried  with  a 
chuckle;  "it  would  make  him  so  glad." 

"  An'  I  had  a  mind  to  I  would,"  the  child  cried,  tossing 
her  head.  "  But  it  might  cause  him  to  do  Ralph  another 
mischief." 

"Why  speak  you  so  bitterly?"  Rachel  said,  looking 
at  her.  "  There  have  been  no  words  between  them  since 
that  night." 

Betty  pursed  her  lips. 

"  I  heard  —  but  it  was  said  to  father.  Yet,  if  I  choose, 
I  could  tell  what  would  astonish  you." 

Oliver  laid  his  hand  upon  her  bridle. 

"  Puss-cat,  what  are  you  hiding?  I  know  there  is 
something  a-buzz  in  your  little  pate.     Hearts!     Let  us 

132 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

hear  it.  What  said  the  minister  to  father?  Speak,  kit- 
ten, or  I  will  shake  you  off  your  pony." 

At  this  sharp  questioning  Betty  looked  guilty,  but  she 
pouted  obstinately  and  shook  her  head. 

"  I  will  not.  No,  you  may  beat  me,  an'  I  will  not.  I 
did  not  mean  to  listen,  but  the  window  was  open,  and  I 
dared  not  move,  fearing  they'd  hear  me.  Nay,  I  cannot 
tell  you.  Rachel,  make  him  let  me  go.  I  will  tell  you 
some  day." 

"  Elizabeth,  if  thou  dost  not  speak "  Oliver  began, 

when  Rachel  intervened. 

"  Force  her  not.  We  have  no  right  to  hear  what 
cannot  concern  us.  See,  a  stretch  of  turf!  I  am  going 
to  gallop." 

She  loosened  her  rein  and  sped  away.  Oliver  dashed 
after  her,  and  Betty  brought  up  the  rear  breathless  but 
radiant. 

"  I  will  tell  you  everything,"  she  whispered  to  Rachel. 
"  I  know  you'll  not  betray  me.  I've  longed  to  tell  some- 
one for  weeks,  but  I  dared  not.     It's  all  about  you." 

They  returned  home  at  dinner-time,  and  the  rest  of 
the  day  Oliver  spent  with  his  mother  and  Madam  Crom- 
well. When  the  farewells  were  said  it  was  noticed  by 
Ralph  that  Oliver  was  very  pale,  and  that  Rachel's 
eyes  were  wet.  Oliver  said  good-bye  quietly  enough, 
but  after  a  glance  at  her  face  he  took  her  hand  and 
kissed  it  before  them  all.  Rachel  was  much  startled, 
but  recovered  herself  instantly. 

"  God  bless  you,"  she  said  in  a  voice  which  trembled 
a  little,  "  and  keep  you  safe  from  harm,  dear  friend,  and 
bring  you  home." 

The  young  men  sat  up  late  that  night.  Cromwell 
had  invited  them  both  to  take  a  glass  of  wine  in  the 
library. 

"  We  have  a  toast  to  drink,"  he  said,  filling  their 
glasses  and  his  own.  "  'Tis  a  custom  I  seldom  approve, 
but  there  are  times  and  seasons.     Ralph,  a  man  whom 

^33 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

you  know  hath  wooed  a  maid  this  day.  He  hath  not 
won  her  yet,  but  if  he  learneth  patience  and  is  of  con- 
stant mind  all  may  be  well.  I  ask  you  to  drink  success 
to  him  with  me." 

They  rose,  glasses  in  hand  —  a  strange  sight  in  a 
Puritan  household  when  such  ceremonies  were  held  to 
savour  of  the  worst  malignancy;  but  Cromwell's  ways,  as 
friends  and  foes  acknowledged,  were  his  own.  The 
glasses  chinked,  and  Ralph  chimed  in,  "  Success  to  you, 
Oliver,  and  a  long  life."  As  for  Oliver,  he  knew  not 
where  to  look  and  hardly  what  to  say.  He  held  out  a 
hand  to  each,  "  Father,  I  thank  you.  Dangerfield, 
thou'rt  my  friend  and  comrade  from  to-day.  Now,  I'll 
drink  back  your  health  and  Rachel's.  God  bless  her, 
and  if  I  die  may  a  man  who  is  worthier  than  I  am  win 
her  love." 

"  Amen,"  said  his  father  gravely,  and  then  they  fell 
into  talk  about  the  times  —  the  probable  strength  of  the 
Parliament  army  in  Yorkshire  under  Lord  Fairfax, 
whom  Oliver  was  to  join;  the  quality  of  the  main  force 
in  the  south,  now  assembling  under  the  Earl  of  Essex. 
Nothing  was  known  of  the  movements  of  the  king. 
Oliver  had  heard  that  he  had  few  followers,  and  prophe- 
sied, with  the  lusty  confidence  of  youth,  that  he  would 
never  have  more,  and  would  presently  be  a  prisoner  in 
their  hands;  but  his  father  checked  him. 

"Tut!  Believe  that  when  ye  see  the  warrant  which 
commits  him  to  the  Tower,  not  earlier.  ]\Iark  me, 
friends,  there  be  at  present  hardly  a  man  in  England 
who'd  dare  lay  a  finger  on  his  person  —  I  could  name 
them  all;  the  time  for  that  is  not  yet  ripe.  We  must 
watch  and  pray  and  fight;  the  rest  is  God's.  Now  1 
must  away  for  a  little  space.  Stay  you  here  and  finish 
the  bottle  between  you;  I  will  soon  return." 

For  some  minutes  the  young  men  sipped  their  wine 
in  silence.     Both  were  grave  and  thoughtful. 


134 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Oliver,"  said  Ralph  at  last,  "  why  are  you  not 
betrothed  to  Mistress  Rachel?" 

The  words  were  spoken  so  sharply,  that  Oliver  looked 
up  in  surprise;  Ralph's  mouth  was  stern,  but  his  eyes 
were  absent  and  dreamy. 

"  I  ought  to  be,"  he  answered  with  a  huge  sigh,  "  but 
father  was  set  against  it  because  the  maid  was  coy  — 
that  is  the  reason.  It's  hard,  i'  faith,"  he  continued, 
lowering  his  voice  and  moving  nearer  to  his  companion. 
"  S'truth,  Ralph,  if  I'd  been  left  to  take  my  own  course 
with  her  she  would  have  yielded,  she  must!  But  he  held 
me;  I  was  like  a  hound  in  the  leash  with  hare  in  view;  in 
a  minute  puss  was  beyond  me.  'Twill  come  right  though 
in  the  end,  I  doubt  not  that.  She  knows  I  care  with  all 
my  soul,  and  that  is  half  the  battle  with  a  woman  when 
there  is  no  one  else.     What  think  you?" 

Ralph  held  his  glass  up  to  the  light,  and  appeared 
to  be  studying  the  quality  of  the  wine. 

"You  may  be  right;  I  know  not,  I  have  not  had 
experience." 

Oliver  laughed  loudly  —  the  wine  had  excited  him. 

"  r  fackins!  don't  tell  me  that;  keep  it  for  the  French! 
Have  I  not  been  in  the  Low  Countries?  Why  you,  you 
were  there  with  the  cream  —  Charlton  and  Spencer  and 
Henry  Verney,  fine  gentlemen  every  one,  blades  of  high 
temper,  bloods  of  the  hottest.  Psha!  I  could  tell  a  score 
of  tales  of  their  adventures,  but  not  within  father's  hear- 
ing. Thou  had  no  experience!  Fie  on  thee  for  a  hypo- 
crite. Nay,  get  not  warm,"  as  Ralph's  face  darkened 
suddenly,  "  I  love  thee  too  well  to  quarrel.  But  be  not 
so  proud  with  me.  Tell  me  thy  secret;  I'll  swear  thou 
hast  one  somewhere.  Thou  knowest  mine,  and  I'm  glad; 
never  have  I  seen  a  man  I'd  trust  as  soon  as  thee.  But 
confidence  should  beget  confidence;  return  my  openness, 
and  let  us  beat  our  friendship  into  shape.  Come,  friend, 
I  mean  it  heart  and  soul  —  confess."  He  stretched  his 
hand  across  the  table,  and  Ralph  grasped  it.  Oliver's 
speech  might  be  wanting  in  delicacy,  but  it  was  as  honest 

135 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

as  his  open  face,  and  to-night  Ralph  felt  hungry  for 
friendship. 

"  I  would,  truly,  were  there  aught  to  tell,  but  I  was  a 
dull  dog.  Charlton  I  knew  at  college,  the  rest  I  scarce 
spoke  to;  I  worked  while  they  were  playing.  I  liked 
it,"  he  added  hastily,  "'twas  inclination,  not  virtue;  the 
shadow  of  my  father's  death  was  upon  my  life.  It  is 
there  still." 

He  sighed,  and  Oliver  wrung  his  hand. 

"  Soft,  good  Ralph,  think  not  of  it.  Oh,  throw  it  off 
your  mind;  thou'rt  too  young  for  such  a  trouble.  Keep 
it  away  till  battle  comes.  S'blood,  comrade,  I  would 
you  and  I  could  deal  together  with  those  who  did  the 
deed.  Truly  you  have  had  a  bitter  life;  I  am  sorry  that 
I  jeered.  But  you'll  forgive  me.  I've  had  easy  times; 
though  now,  if  the  cavaliers  fight,  I'll  get  my  share  of 
knocks.  Heigho!  what  a  difference  the  women  make 
in  that  though.  Faith!  Rachel  has  near  made  a  coward 
of  me.  A  month  ago  I'd  given  an  ear  for  the  war  to 
begin  at  once;  now  I'd  not  mind  if  the  king  ran  away 
without  a  blow,  so  that  I  might  get  back  the  quicker. 
'Tis  hard  to  go  away  uncertain.  You  take  me  in  this? 
Why  should  she  not  know?  Hearts!  how  queerly  made 
these  women  be.  I  am  like  a  man  in  a  fever  —  one  min- 
ute all  hot  with  hope,  the  next  shaking  with  despair. 
I  could  endure  all  if  I  knezv.  But  to  go  away  thus,  be 
killed,  belike,  and  never  know  at  all  —  s'truth  it's  too 
much.  Dear  Ralph,  give  me  thy  counsel,  I  am  very 
low." 

He  pushed  his  wine  glass  away  and  leant  his  head 
drearily  upon  his  hand.  Ralph  drew  his  chair  close  to 
him,  and  moved  by  a  sudden  sympathy,  threw  his  arm 
over  the  broad  shoulder. 

"  Come,  come,"  he  said  cheerily,  "  this  is  not  like  you, 
Oliver.  Heart  up!  You  who  be  on  the  ladder  of  glory 
and  happiness  should  not  sit  and  weep.  You  go  forth 
to  win  laurels,  and  return  to  grasp  your  father's  hand 
and  take  your  reward  from  your  lady's  eyes.     Why,  I 

136 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

know  none  so  fortunate.  'Fore  heaven,  I  do  envy  thee 
with  all  my  heart.  Think  what  might  be.  Think  of 
those  with  no  mother,  father,  sweetheart,  not  even  a  dog 
to  love  them.  You  asked  my  confidence,  you  shall  have 
it  then.  I  am  worse  oiT  than  you.  I've  naught  in  the 
world  —  nobody  to  care  for,  nothing  to  think  upon  but 
the  memory  of  my  father's  death.  All  my  friends  be 
Royalists.  If  I  meet  them  again  they  will  be  at  my 
throat  and  I  at  theirs.  There  is  but  one  man  in  the 
world  I  care  for  —  your  father,  and  I  am  naught  to  him," 

He  stopped  abruptly,  for  the  door  had  opened,  and 
Cromwell  came  in.  But  Oliver,  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
sprang  up  and  went  to  him. 

"  Father,  speak  to  this  man.  He  says  you  be  his  best 
friend,  but  care  nothing  in  return." 

Cromwell  looked  from  one  flushed  face  to  the  other, 
and  laid  a  hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  each. 

"  He  hes  then,  Oliver,  and  he  knows  it.  I  plucked 
him  from  the  jaws  of  malignancy  and  brought  him  into 
the  heart  of  my  household.  I  did  this  against  fierce 
opposition.  I  have  not  regretted  it,  and  shall  not.  Did 
I  do  right,  think  you?  Canst  rely  upon  him  as  a  friend 
—  as  a  brother?  " 

Oliver  laughed  aloud  and  turned  upon  Ralph  in 
triumph. 

"There,  what  say'st  to  that?  Indeed  I  can,  and  do, 
father.  He  hath  given  me  sweet  comfort  when  most  I 
needed  it.  Some  day,  please  God,  I'll  do  the  same  by 
him." 

"  Amen  to  that,"  Cromwell  rejoined.  Then  he  said 
very  tenderly,  "  Ralph,  thou'rt  tired  out;  you  too,  Oliver. 
Go  ye  to  bed  —  both." 

When  the  young  men  had  departed  he  paced  the 
room  with  knitted  brow. 

"  The  seed  is  uprooted,  the  fiower  nipped  in  the  bud," 
he  said  aloud.  "  I  should  be  well  content.  And  yet  — 
and  yet,  my  heart  is  sore." 

137 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHAT  think  ye  of  the  new  lieutenant,  Sanctify?" 
"  I've  seen  but  one." 

"  I  mean  the  man  who  came  a  week  since." 

"Where's  the  other?" 

"  'SHd!  our  cornet.  He's  done  the  work  of  two.  Noll 
will  lose  by  the  change." 

"  Nay,  he  should  mightily  rejoice." 

The  words  were  spoken  with  a  slight  unction  of  tone 
which  made  the  other  man  grunt  impatiently. 

"  Grammercy  for  thy  opinion,  then  —  if  it  be  thine, 
which  I  doubt." 

"  Jeremiah  Micklejohn,"  said  his  companion  solemnly, 
"  thou'rt  a  blind  and  impious  worm  of  the  flesh.  Canst 
not  comprehend  that  a  man  of  religion " 

"  Ouns,  comrade,  I  am  a  soldier  and  thy  corporal, 
and  comprehend  my  business.  But  away  with  this 
word-play.     Who  and  what  is  Lieutenant  Capell?" 

The  men  were  trotting  homewards  along  the  high- 
road from  Cambridge,  the  setting  sun  splashing  the  long 
stretch  of  fen  with  red  and  orange.  It  was  the  close 
of  an  October  day.  Micklejohn  had  to  repeat  his  ques- 
tion before  he  received  an  answer. 

"  If  thou  be  a  corporal,"  the  other  said  at  last,  "  thou 
knowest  more  of  officers  than  me,  a  poor  trooper." 

"  Now  a  curse  be  on  ye,  man,  for  a  surly  knave.  An' 
the  captain's  orders  were  less  strict,  I'd  lend  thee  a  buffet 
that  might  mend  thy  manners  and  relieve  my  temper. 
I've  but  seen  the  man  at  drill;  thou  wast  bred  in  Hunt- 
ingdon, his  birthplace,  and  hast  known  him  more  years 

138 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

than  I  have  days.  What's  he  made  of  —  good  steel  or 
sounding  brass?" 

"  There  be  Httle  sound  in  him,"  the  other  rephed,  a 
gleam  in  his  sombre  eyes ;  "  if  he  speak  ten  words  in  a 
day  beyond  his  business,  'tis  a  wonder.  Nay,  I  tell  thee, 
Jem,  he's  one  whom  the  ministers  love,  being  full  of 
religion.  Yet  he's  no  shirker  of  the  carnal  duties.  His 
father  was  a  glover  in  our  town,  and  died  in  the  lieuten- 
ant's boyhood,  leaving  him  poor  i'  the  world's  goods, 
but  rich  in  an  example  of  godliness.  It  is  said  that  he 
trounced  the  lieutenant  when  a  child  a  half-hour  daily 
for  a  week  because  he  spoke  a  scoffing  word  of  a  Pres- 
byter. Assuredly  he  was  brought  up  under  firm  and 
proper  discipline.  At  his  father's  death  the  boy  —  he 
was  but  fifteen  —  went  to  London,  and  through  the  grace 
of  the  Lord  that  was  in  him ;  the  patronage  of  Presbyter 
Hepworth,  and  an  exceeding  thriftiness,  he  prospered, 
and  was  pursuing  a  study  of  the  law,  when  the  country's 
troubles  began,  upon  which  he  enlisted  in  the  train- 
bands of  London,  and  rose  to  a  captaincy." 

"Pooh;  he  be  no  soldier,  then." 

"  That  thou'st  may  affirm  and  I  may  not  contradict 
thee,"  was  the  dry  rejoinder;  "nevertheless,  he  hath 
given  satisfaction  to  soldiers  in  the  ranks  above  him,  and 
is  thought  well  of  in  all  quarters.  It  is  surely  an  abun- 
dant mercy  for  us  that  we  have  him  as  our  second  in 
command." 

"  You  say  so.  But  what  do  you  think?  I  stand  by 
Cornet  Dangerfield." 

The  trooper  pursed  his  lips  and  raised  his  eyebrows. 
"Dost  know  his  religion?  Be  it  not  true  that  he  is 
tainted  with  that  heresy  they  call  Socinianism?" 

The  corporal  laughed. 

"  Withersklns!  Then  by  all  that  is  true  in  Gospel  I'll 
turn  Socinian  myself.  Ralph  Dangerfield  is  the  proper- 
est  lad  a-horse  or  a-foot,  in  council  or  in  camp,  that  I've 
seen  since  I  was  old  enough  to  swing  a  sword  or  throw 

139 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  leg  across  a  gelding;  and  that  was  before  thou  wast 
born,  most  worshipful,  godly  Sanctify  Sopstick!  And 
now,  old  comrade,  we  must  prate  no  more,  but  haste  to 
quarters,  or  Reuben's  tongue  will  rain  and  hail  upon  us 
until  our  suppers  nigh  turn  sour." 

The  speaker  suited  his  action  to  the  word,  and,  spur- 
ring his  horse,  they  clattered  through  the  village  of 
Stretham,  scattering  geese,  dogs,  and  children  right  and 
left. 

They  were  a  great  contrast  in  appearance  these  men 
of  Cromwell's  troop.  The  corporal  was  small  and 
squarely  made,  a  tough  little  pippin  of  a  man,  fresh- 
coloured,  with  a  button  of  a  nose  very  much  turned  up. 
He  had  been  in  the  wars  with  Sweetlove,  through  whom 
he  had  joined  the  troop.  But  he  had  saved  no  money, 
and  was  a  typical  specimen  of  the  better  sort  of  mer- 
cenary of  the  time  —  careless  and  thriftless,  yet  of  fairly 
sober  life,  genuinely  fond  of  his  profession,  and  a  skilled 
man  at  arms.  The  other  man.  Sanctify  Jordan,  was  as 
tall  as  the  corporal  was  short.  His  face  was  thin  and 
lank,  melancholy,  and  saturnine.  He  was  long-necked, 
long-backed,  long-limbed,  and  sat  his  horse  like  a  figure 
of  wood.  Everything  about  the  man  was  stiff  and  angu- 
lar; yet,  owing  partly  to  a  gravity  of  speech  and  manner 
and  partly  to  a  reputation  for  austere  piety.  Sanctify 's 
opinion,  when  he  expressed  it,  possessed  more  weight 
with  his  comrades  than  anyone  else's,  except  the  quar- 
termaster's. One  thing  about  him,  however,  puzzled 
everybody,  even  Cromwell  it  was  said;  this  was  his  inti- 
mate friendship  with  Corporal  Micklejohn,  whose  morals 
were  matters  of  grave  suspicion,  who  had  been  more 
than  once  fined  for  scandalous  language,  and  who 
steadily  refused  to  become  a  member  of  any  religious 
community.  That  Micklejohn  was  a  corporal  of  the 
troop  he  owed  solely  to  his  military  experience  and  the 
friendship  of  Reuben  Sweetlove. 


140 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

The  men  were  silent  for  a  time,  and  then  the  corporal 
broke  out  afresh :  — 

"  I  will  tell  ye  my  opinion  of  this  younker  lieutenant, 
and  thou  shalt  gainsay  it  if  thou  canst.  I  like  him  not. 
Every  day,  when  taking  orders  from  him,  I  says  to 
myself,  '  Ye've  a  dreaping,  surly  look  about  ye,  my  mas- 
ter. Your  face  is  heavy  and  hard,  your  eyes  dull  —  the 
eyes  of  a  fish  —  and  ne'er  look  straight  into  mine.  Yet 
I'll  warrant  they  see  if  there  is  a  spot  in  my  armour, 
though  it  be  no  bigger  than  a  pin's  head.  I'd  not  trust 
ye,  nay,  no  further  than  a  sword's  thrust  off.'  That's 
what  I  says  to  myself,  comrade,  and  I  says  it  now  to  thee. 
'Slife,  this  Capell  be  here  for  no  good  either  to  us  or  the 
cornet.  Ain't  he  a  friend  of  the  Presbyter's?  And  don't 
they  say  the  reverend  man  would  oust  our  lad  from 
Cromwell's  favour  by  any  means  in  his  power,  being  so 
feared  lest  young  Mistress  Rachel  may  fancy  him?  They 
do  say  it,"  as  Sanctify  looked  incredulous,  "  and  thou 
knowest  they  do,  old  fox!  Well,  he's  failed,  as  he 
deserved.  First  he  tried  a  bully  with  Noll  himself;  but 
that  went  up  like  a  French  petard.  Then  he  put  Oliver 
the  younger  upon  the  chase;  but  that  miscarried  I've 
heard.  Now  he  twists  in  Lieutenant  Capell;  and  this, 
mark  you,  is  going  to  be  the  worst  blow  of  all  for  the 
cornet.  The  old  Oliver  was  too  strong,  the  young  one 
too  simple;  but  Capell  is  supple  and  cautious  and  deep  — 
one  of  the  waiting  kind.  IMayhap  he'll  take  time  to  get 
hold,  but  his  grip'll  be  hard  to  loose.  What  thinkst  ye 
of  it  all  thyself?     Speak!" 

The  tall  man  gave  his  head  an  impressive  jerk. 

"  Nay,  nay,  master  corporal,  not  I.  What  need  for 
my  halting  words.  Thy  mind  is  made  up.  Thou  hast 
dubbed  the  man  a  knave  and  hypocrite,  and  no  cleansing 
by  me  would  take  the  stain  out  of  him.  Yet  I  would 
repeat  in  other  words  that  which  I  have  already  set  forth. 
This  man,  though  no  shedder  of  blood  at  the  present, 
is  skilled  in  his  work.     He  hath  the  full  confidence  of 

141 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Cromwell  and  the  strenuous  support  of  many  members  of 
Parliament.  Before  long  he  will  command  the  minds 
of  our  troop.  His  designs  I  know  not.  So  far  he  be 
complaisant  toward  the  cornet  I  have  observed;  at  least, 
he  listens  with  much  attention  while  the  youth  speaketh. 
Let  us  do  the  like  and  watch  the  outcome.  Some  day 
the  Lord  will  bring  forth  the  reckonings  of  these  two 
men.  We  may  then  strike  a  balance,  and  if  it  be  not 
a  fair  one,  perchance  we  might  give  our  humble  ser- 
vices to  make  it  so." 

The  corporal  laughed. 

"  'Twas  a  vain  and  foolish  attempt  of  mine  to  try 
drawing  thee,  old  iron-head.  Let  it  pass.  I  know  thy 
heart.  So  we  march  to-morrow  for  Worcester  —  work, 
real  work,  will  soon  begin.  Good  lack!  how  I  thirst 
for  it." 

"Thou'lt  get  a  throttle-full,  Jim,  if  report  speaks 
truly." 

"  Aye,  the  king  hath  collected  a  fine  army  since  he 
raised  his  standard.  Some  say  twice  my  Lord  Essex's. 
The  very  troopers  are  gentlemen,  mounted  on  blood 
horses,  their  armour  worth  a  ransom." 

Sanctify  gave  a  quiet  chuckle. 

"  Doubtless  the  devil  hath  equipped  his  own.  Yet 
will  we  cast  them  under  our  feet  and  scatter  them  like 
straw  on  a  threshing-floor.  But  this  will  not  be  without 
slaughter  and  blood,  good  comrade,  and  the  rending  of 
hearts  in  twain,  sore  loss  of  godly  lives,  and  the  sending 
of  souls  to  judgment  to  sufifer  the  tortures  of  hell.  So 
thou  thinkst  that  Mistress  Rachel  favours  the  Socinian?  " 

The  question  came  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  that 
Micklejohn  had  answered  it  before  he  could  collect  his 
wits. 

"  Marry,  yes."  Then  he  stopped  and  twisted  in  bis 
saddle.  "  Hey,  but  my  thoughts  are  going  too  cheap. 
What  think  you?" 

"My  mind  on  such  matters  is  a  waste.  Yet  I  know 
142 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

that  Lieutenant  Capell,  in  the  minds  of  most  females, 
be  a  very  godly  man." 

"A  curse  upon  his  godliness!"  snarled  the  corporal. 
"But  soft!  yonder  is  he  ahead,  and  the  cornet  also. 
Haste  ye  —  spur  thy  slow  beast,  man!  If  they  be  in 
Ely  before  us  Cromwell  will  hear  of  it." 

The  officers  were  riding  leisurely,  and  the  troopers 
soon  overtook  them  and  passed  them  with  a  silent  salute, 
which  Ralph  alone  acknowledged. 

"  There  is  mischief  there,"  his  companion  said  in  an 
undertone.     "  They  have  been  wandering." 

"Very  likely.  But  I  have  no  fear  for  either;  both 
are  tried  men." 

The  lieutenant  coughed. 

"  Fd  trust  none  of  the  rogues  were  I  you,  friend.  Nay, 
night  and  day  I  would  watch  them.  It  is  the  only  way 
to  preserve  true  discipline,  and  keep  them  in  their  place." 
Ralph  did  not  reply,  and  the  conversation  languished. 
Lieutenant  Capell  had  been  a  week  at  Ely,  and  Ralph 
had  never  spent  a  longer  seven  days  in  his  life.  He  did 
not  dislike  the  man,  and  would  have  said  with  justice 
that  Corporal  Micklejohn's  description  of  him  was  exag- 
gerated; but  he  did  not  find  much  pleasure  in  his  com- 
pany. Capell  was  not  handsome.  In  figure  he  was 
stout  and  clumsily  made.  His  features  were  roughly 
cut,  with  fleshy  nose,  and  small  eyes.  It  was  a  face 
which  lacked  expression,  and  he  had  a  habit  when  talk- 
ing of  looking  over  the  shoulder  of  the  person  he 
addressed,  which  made  it  extremely  difficult  for  that 
person  to  guess  his  thoughts;  yet  the  face  was  neither 
hard  nor  treacherous,  and  those  who  knew  Capell  best 
trusted  him  the  most.  He  had  the  reputation  every- 
where for  sound  sense  and  judgment,  a  discretion  that 
could  always  be  depended  upon,  steadiness  of  conduct, 
energy  in  his  work,  and  extraordinary  industry.  Crom- 
well, who  made  strict  inquiry  about  the  man  before  he 
received  him  at  Ely  upon  Isaac  Hepworth's  recommenda- 

143 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

tion,  was  well  satisfied  with  all  that  he  heard,  and  more 
than  satisfied  with  the  efficiency  of  the  train-band  of 
which  Capell  had  been  captain.  The  only  point  about 
the  man  which  puzzled  Cromwell  was  his  willingness  to 
give  up  his  commission  in  London  and  serve  him  at  Ely 
as  lieutenant;  but  that  was  his  own  affair.  It  was  a 
difficult  position  for  Capell.  He  was  a  stranger  to  the 
Cromwell  family  and  to  the  men  under  him.  His  man- 
ners with  the  ladies  were  awkward;  with  the  troop  he 
was  stiff  and  cold;  but  there  was  a  quiet  deference  to 
Cromwell  and  an  absence  of  any  assumption  of  authority 
towards  Ralph  that  kept  them  on  excellent  terms.  In 
spite  of  this,  however,  Capell's  presence  was  a  severe 
trial  to  Ralph  —  a  trial  which  did  not  grow  less  as  time 
went  on.  The  young  men,  though  at  one  in  their  desire 
to  promote  the  efficiency  of  the  troop,  soon  found  that 
they  differed  upon  every  other  subject.  Capell  was  a 
strict  Puritan,  even  to  his  dress.  His  doublet  was  of 
coarse,  black  cloth ;  his  cloak  of  the  same  material,  worn 
long  and  drawn  close  round  his  shoulders;  his  headgear 
was  a  high-crowned  hat  with  narrow  brim,  and  he  cut 
his  hair  close  to  his  head.  Ralph,  on  the  other  hand, 
though  he  had  removed  the  feathers  from  his  castor  still 
wore  it  a  little  on  one  side;  and  over  a  short  white  collar 
of  linen  —  for  he  had  discarded  the  lace  —  his  love-locks 
fell  as  luxuriantly  as  ever;  while  his  cloak  and  doublet, 
though  of  a  sombre  hue,  were  still  jauntily  cut.  In 
temperament  and  in  experience  of  life  also  they  differed 
as  much  as  in  their  views  upon  dress.  But,  after  all, 
the  real  difficulty  lay  in  another  direction.  Ralph  was 
jealous.  Though  it  was  true  that  Capell  did  not  exert 
his  authority  in  a  way  likely  to  be  galling  to  his  junior, 
yet  he  was  tenacious  of  one  privilege,  which  to  Ralph 
had  been  the  most  precious  of  all,  the  first  place  at 
Cromwell's  side.  Until  Capell  came  Ralph  had  worked 
with  his  captain  early  and  late.  Before  Capell's  arrival 
Cromwell  had  taken  no  step,  either  in  recruiting  new 

144 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

men,  buying  horses,  arms,  and  accoutrements,  or  any 
matter  concerning  the  well-being  of  the  troop,  without 
consulting  Ralph;  now  he  consulted  Capell.  There  was 
nothing  to  complain  of  in  this,  Ralph  told  himself.  The 
lieutenant  was  an  older  man  by  five  years;  and  though 
he  had  not  seen  foreign  service,  he  was  quite  up  to  his 
work;  while  his  standing  in  the  army,  as  Cromwell  more 
than  once  remarked,  was  a  very  high  one  for  a  subordi- 
nate of^cer.  Nevertheless,  Ralph  was  sore.  He  was 
scrupulously  careful  not  to  give  the  least  expression  to 
his  feelings;  but  he  felt  that  he  had  been  slighted  for  a 
stranger,  and  this  wounded  him  in  a  very  tender  place. 
Life  at  the  best  was  a  very  dreary  business,  and  now  that 
the  stimulus  of  Cromwell's  companionship  was  with- 
drawn it  became  desperately  lonely.  Ralph  was  one  of 
those  people  who  can  never  be  happy  unless  they  feel 
themselves  to  be  indispensable  to  somebody.  It  is  a 
weakness  chiefly  belonging  to  women,  but  is  much  more 
common  among  men  than  they  are  generally  willing  to 
acknowledge. 

On  this  particular  evening,  the  last  which  the  troop 
was  to  spend  at  Ely,  Ralph  felt  as  miserable  as  a 
neglected  child.  The  preparations  for  the  march  were 
complete.  There  was  nothing  to  take  his  attention  from 
himself,  and  he  was  alone.  Cromwell  was  as  usual 
engaged  with  Capell;  Betty,  Bridget,  and  Rachel  were 
with  Mrs.  Cromwell.  It  was  true  that  the  same  thing 
had  happened  every  night  since  the  lieutenant's  arrival, 
and  Ralph  told  himself  roughly  that  he  ought  to  be 
used  to  it,  but  this  did  not  make  him  any.  the  happier. 
He  sauntered  into  the  summer-house  and  sat  there  for 
a  long  time,  his  eyes  wandering  listlessly  over  the  trim 
lawn  and  flower-beds,  the  wall  which  enclosed  the  gar- 
den, the  spire  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  and,  beyond,  the 
tower  of  the  cathedral.  The  weather  was  warm  for  the 
time  of  year,  and  all  day  a  south-west  wind  had  piled 
up  the  clouds  for  rain.  Now  all  was  still,  as  if  the  earth 
lo  145 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

were  waiting  for  the  coming  storm.  It  was  not  late, 
but  the  lack  of  sunlight  gave  a  strange  gloom  and  soft- 
ness to  the  outlines  of  the  buildings,  and  made  the 
cathedral  tower  seem  greater  and  more  dominating  than 
usual.  Ralph  sat  still  wrapped  in  his  thoughts.  His 
brow  was  contracted  with  pain,  his  lips  set  tightly.  It 
was  his  birthday,  but  no  one  knew  it,  or  would  care  to 
know  it.  A  Socinian's  son!  Was  that  the  reason  why 
he  had  been  cast  out  of  favour?  Doubtless.  Nay,  more, 
they  thought  him  to  be  a  Socinian.  This  would  account 
for  many  things,  especially  for  a  curious  reserve  with 
which  Madam  Cromwell  had  treated  him  of  late.  He 
had  taken  the  hint  given  by  Rachel,  and  on  presenting 
himself  before  the  old  lady  one  August  evening  had  been 
received  most  kindly.  She  had  told  him  much  of  his 
father  and  grandfather,  and  had  invited  him  to  come  and 
see  her  whenever  he  had  leisure.  But  not  long  ago  he 
noticed  a  sudden  change  in  her  manner,  and  once  she 
was  almost  rude.  This  was  a  few  weeks  since,  and  he 
had  not  been  to  see  her  again.  He  had  tried  to  find  a 
possible  reason  for  her  rebuff,  but  had  thought  of  none 
till  to-night.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  had  rarely 
been  in  the  old  lady's  room  without  meeting  Rachel,  and 
that  he  was  a  different  person  in  that  maiden's  presence. 
But  he  remembered  now  that  religious  subjects  were 
rigorously  avoided,  and  once  planted  in  his  mind,  the 
idea  that  he  was  an  outcast  grew  rapidly.  A  score  of 
incidents  which  at  the  time  they  occurred  seemed  of  no 
importance  became  positive  warnings  now.  There  was 
the  occasion  on  which  Cromwell  had  nearly  startled  him 
out  of  his  wits  by  requesting  him  to  offer  up  daily 
prayers  for  the  troop  during  his  absence  in  London. 
Ralph's  prompt  refusal  had  been  dictated  more  by  ner- 
vousness than  anything  else,  and  Cromwell  had  quietly 
let  the  matter  drop.  But  Capell  had  taken  this  duty 
upon  his  arrival  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  had  done  it 
well.     The   manners   of  the  troopers   struck   Ralph   as 

146 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

more  reserved  than  formerly;  even  the  servants  avoided 
him,  or  he  thought  so.     Ralph  sighed  bitterly. 

"  A  mere  suspicion,"  he  muttered,  "  born  of  my  words 
to  the  old  minister  that  first  night.  Psha!  a  slender  rope 
upon  which  to  hang  a  heretic.  Yet,  I'll  swear  they 
would  hang  me." 

He  sighed  again;  then  his  face  became  very  thought- 
ful. What,  after  all,  did  he  believe?  He  had  read  his 
father's  book  many  times,  and  each  time  with  interest 
and  growing  sympathy ;  and  he  had  read  his  Bible  —  he 
knew  most  of  the  New  Testament  by  heart.  Yet,  for  all 
that,  he  had  not  thought  deeply  about  his  own  religious 
belief.  In  the  Low  Countries  he  had  been  too  busy 
learning  the  art  of  war;  in  England  he  had  given  the  best 
of  his  mind,  body,  and  brain  to  Cromwell ;  and  in  leisure 
hours  he  had  —  well,  he  had  thought  of  Rachel  Fuller- 
ton.  It  was  a  confession  he  did  not  like  making;  but  he 
was  in  the  mood  for  telling  himself  plain  truths,  and 
this  weighed  upon  his  mind.  Then  with  another  sigh, 
a  very  lingering  one,  he  dismissed  the  thought.  On  the 
morrow  this  quiet  life  would  be  at  an  end ;  active  service 
was  coming  at  last.  Oh,  how  he  longed  for  it!  Yet 
to-night  he  indulged  in  none  of  the  dreams  of  glory 
which  had  lightened  the  burden  of  his  loneliness  on  other 
occasions.  He  only  thought  of  death,  and  shivered  — 
not  from  fear,  but  from  a  sudden  feeling  of  unprepared- 
ness.  "  Merciful  God,"  he  cried,  "  I  am  not  fit  to  die!  " 
He  left  the  summer-house  and  feverishly  paced  the  gar- 
den-walks. A  religion  —  faith  in  a  living  God,  in  eter- 
nity, in  Christ;  these  were  what  a  man  needed  when  his 
soul  went  forth  at  death.  Were  they  his?  They  must 
be;  and  yet,  like  a  dark,  threatening  cloud  in  a  clear 
sky,  he  felt  a  doubt  rising  in  his  mind,  a  sickening  uncer- 
tainty, and  he  was  tortured  by  it.  "  This  shall  not  be," 
he  muttered,  clenching  his  hands;  "I  will  search  my 
heart,  and  before  I  join  the  friends  in  evening  prayer 
find  out  where  it  rests,  and  be  prepared  to  avow  my 

147 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

faith  before  the  world,  even  as  my  father  did.  Father!  " 
the  word  came  from  his  hps  Hke  a  cry,  "  how  I  need  thee. 
What  would  I  not  give  to  see  thy  face  and  hear  thy 
speech  —  so  gentle,  yet  so  steadfast!  Almighty  God, 
breathe  his  spirit  into  mine!  Thou  who  art  my  Father, 
too,  the  Creator  and   Father  of  the  world,   Father  of 

Jesus  Christ "     He  stopped,  as  if  struck  by  some 

sudden  thought,  and  stood  still. 

"  '  Give  up  all,  and  follow  Me,'  saith  the  Lord.  The 
young  man  would  not.  I  have  naught  to  give.  Yet 
were  I  to  declare  myself  as  one  who  renounced  my 
father's  faith  I  might  gain  much  —  perchance  everything, 
or  near  everything,  that  could  make  life  worth  the  living. 
And  if  I  have  doubts,  why  —  but  no,"  he  drew  a  long, 
sharp  breath  between  his  teeth,  "  I  have  no  doubts.  The 
light  hath  come  to  me  at  last.  I  believe,  I  know.  God, 
my  father,  Christ,  my  brother!" 

He  doffed  his  hat,  and  a  heavy  drop  of  rain  splashed 
upon  his  forehead,  while  from  the  distance  came  the 
rumbling  of  thunder. 

"An  omen!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  accept  it.  Lord,  for 
weal  or  woe.  Come  storm,  come  stress,  the  sorrow  of 
friends,  the  contempt  of  all,  I  fear  it  not,  for  I  know 
myself.  Father,  dearest,  canst  hear  me,  wherever  thou 
mayest  be?  I  am  thine  now,  of  thy  blood,  of  thy  faith, 
for  ever  and  for  ever.     Amen,  amen." 

He  replaced  his  hat,  and  with  carriage  erect  and  head 
thrown  proudly  back,  he  returned  to  the  house.  As  he 
was  about  to  touch  the  door  it  was  opened,  and  Rachel 
stood  before  him.  He  started  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost, 
while  Rachel,  her  mind  full  of  kindly  thoughts,  smiled 
pleasantly  upon  him. 

"  This  is  well  met,"  she  said,  "  I  was  searching  for  you, 
and  feared  you  were  in  the  town.  Madam  Cromwell 
hath  sent  me.  She  requests  you  to  come  to  her  at  once, 
wishing  much  to  speak  to  you." 

148 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Ralph  bowed  formally.  "  I  will  attend  her  bidding, 
madam." 

Rachel  looked  surprised  at  the  austerity  of  his  manner. 
"  'Tis  to  ofTer  you  her  good  wishes  on  your  birthday, 
sir." 

Ralph  started,  and  the  colour  rushed  into  his  face. 
"  That  is  truly  kind  of  her  and  of  you,  Mistress  Rachel." 

They  were  in  the  passage  leading  to  the  staircase,  a 
narrow  passage.  Rachel  was  smiling  again,  and  her 
eyes  were  brighter  than  usual,  and  very  near  to  his. 

"  I  was  well  pleased  to  do  so,"  she  said  cordially. 
"  We  have  not  met  much  of  late,  and  to-morrow  you  leave 
us.     Now  let  us  not  delay." 

She  went  on  before  him,  and  Ralph  followed,  watch- 
ing as  one  in  a  dream  her  dainty,  graceful  movements, 
and  feeling  a  sudden  sense  of  happiness,  rest,  and  peace. 
He  did  not,  however,  notice  that  the  dress  which  Rachel 
wore,  though  a  sober  grey,  was  of  silk,  the  broad,  white 
collar  above  it  edged  with  lace;  nor,  if  he  had  seen  it, 
would  he  have  conceived  it  possible  that  they  had  been 
donned  in  his  honour,  and  that  Rachel  had  spent  at 
least  five  minutes  more  than  was  at  all  necessary  before 
her  looking-glass.  Madam  Cromwell  knew  it  —  that  is, 
about  the  dress  —  and  Rachel  knew  that  she  knew  it. 
The  girl  had  no  secrets  from  her  dearest  friend,  and  felt 
no  shame  in  acknowledging  to  her  the  warmth  of  her 
regard  and  friendship  for  Master  Dangerfield,  the  frank- 
ness of  which  was  a  proof  to  Madam  Cromwell  of  the 
lack  of  anything  more  serious. 

The  old  lady  fully  shared  Rachel's  feelings,  and  the 
girl  knew  that  whatever  reserve  Madam  Cromwell 
thought  it  prudent  to  show  toward  Ralph  her  heart 
melted  at  sight  of  him.  To  both  he  was  the  trusty  family 
friend,  and  in  Cromwell's  absence  the  man  to  whom  they 
looked  for  protection.  They  knew  nothing  of  his  former 
life  at  college  or  abroad,  and  they  did  not  care  to  know; 
they  watched,  they  saw,  and  judged  him  for  themselves. 

149 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Thrice  blessed  is  the  man  who  has  such  confidence  from 
pure  and  strong-souled  women.  Calumny  may  do  its 
worst,  yet  through  storm  and  shine  and  every  change  of 
fortune  their  regard  will  last  unto  the  end.  Such  confi- 
dence as  this  had  been  given  to  Ralph  by  these  two,  and 
as  he  mounted  the  stair  to  Madam  Cromwell's  room  and 
heard  her  cheery  voice,  and  saw  Rachel  at  the  door  with 
a  smile  of  brightest,  sweetest  welcome  on  her  face,  he 
dimly  realised  it,  and  after  one  leap  of  joy  his  heart  fell 
faint  and  chill. 

"My  God!"  he  thought,  "she  knoweth  nothing,  sus- 
pecteth  nothing  after  all,  and  I  must  tell  her  to-night. 
It  is  hard,  bitter  hard;  at  the  least  I  might  have  been 
her  friend." 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WELCOME,  and  many  happy  returns  of  thy 
birthday,"  cried  the  old  lady  as  Ralph  entered. 
"  Now  sit  ye.  Rachel,  bring  forth  the  confections  and 
cakes  thou  hast  been  so  busy  upon.  We  must  have  all 
in  readiness  against  the  coming  of  thy  guardian  and  his 
lieutenant, 

"  This  last  evening,  before  you  all  set  forth,"  she  con- 
tinued to  Ralph,  ''  I  petitioned  my  son  to  spend  an  hour 
here  before  prayers.  1  wished  also  to  see  thee.  That 
surprises  ye! " 

Madam  Cromwell  said  the  last  words  in  her  most 
abrupt  tones. 

Ralph  could  not  help  smiling.  "  Such  a  thought  was 
indeed  in  my  mind,  madam." 

"And  why,  then?" 

He  flushed  a  little,  but  met  the  keen  glance  she  gave 
him.     "  I  believed  my  visits  were  become  too  frequent." 

"  I  did  not  tell  ye  that." 

His  lips  tightened.  "That  was  not  needful.  I  saw 
it  was  so,  and  intruded  not  again." 

Madam  Cromwell  laughed  pleasantly.  "  Young  sir, 
thou'rt  thy  grandfather  to  the  life.  How  well  I  can 
remember — 'twas  not  long  before  he  went  aboard  the 
ship  which  carried  him  to  his  death  —  that  he  said  those 
words  in  that  very  tone.  It  was  his  pride  —  all  pride 
and  vanity  —  yet  it  became  him,  and  were  I  as  young 
now  as  then  perchance  I'd  say  the  same  of  thee.  But 
I  am  an  old,  old  woman,  and 'should  indeed  know  better 
than  to  chatter  thus;  the  sea  covers  him,  and  the  earth 
will  soon  cover  me.     Nay,  thou  canst  never  come  too 

151 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

often,  nor  outstay  thy  welcome;  yet  I  had  reasons  for  not 
desiring  thy  visits.  I  vvill  be  so  far  plain  with  thee,  boy. 
Let  that  be  forgot.  When  thou  goest  away  to  the  war 
—  to  thy  death,  or  maybe  to  -victory  and  honour  —  I 
would  thou  shouldst  know  I  am  greatly  interested  in 
thee,  I  am  on  the  brink  of  the  grave;  thou  a  youth,  and, 
I  trust,  of  a  pious  mind,  filled  with  true  religion;  yet  my 
prayers  may  avail  thee.  They  will  be  thine  —  aye,  and 
the  prayers  of  all  this  family;  forget  not  that.  We  do 
not  express  our  feelings  freely  in  this  house,  but  we  have 
warm  hearts.  This  is  thy  proper  home.  Believe  me, 
my  dear,  we  love  thee  very  well." 

It  was  very  seldom  that  Madam  Cromwell  spoke  with 
such  emotion.  Ralph  was  touched,  and  rose  impulsively 
to  kiss  her  hand.  As  he  did  so  he  met  Rachel's  eyes  full 
of  sympathy  and  feeling,  and  something  in  their  expres- 
sion quickened  the  resolve  he  had  made  when  he  saw 
her  at  the  garden-door. 

"  I  am  grateful,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  squaring  his 
shoulders  and  sighing  as  he  spoke ;  "  in  truth  far  more 
than  grateful.  Your  words,  dear  madam,  make  me 
resolve  most  earnestly  to  live  even  as  the  grandson  of 
one  honoured  by  your  friendship,  and  as  my  father's 
son,  should  live;  and  with  God's  help  I  will  do  it.  But 
I  cannot  ever  make  this  house  my  home.  Nay,  for 
aught  I  know,  after  to-night  its  doors  will  be  closed 
against  me,  or  opened  coldly  to  the  cornet  of  the  troop. 
I  will  give  the  reason.  It  is  a  simple  one.  I  am  a  Socin- 
ian,  so-called.  My  father's  faith  is  mine.  Though  I  can 
neither  write  nor  preach,  having  no  gift  of  words,  what 
he  held  to  be  the  truth  I  hold  and  ever  will  —  I  crave 
your  pardon." 

Madam  Cromwell  had  interrupted  him  with  a  sharp 
question.  She  repeated  it.  "  How  long  since  thy  con- 
version, if  I  be  not  too  curious?"  Her  voice  was  cold 
and  hard. 

"  My  mind  hath  been  exercised  some  years.     I  came 

152 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

to  full  knowledge  and  conviction  touching  my  belief 
to-night." 

"  Then  I  have  hope,"  she  rejoined  more  cheerfully, 
watching  him  from  under  her  eyelids,  "  a  day  may  soon 
come  when  thy  present  conceptions  will  wither  and  die, 
and  thy  nature  recover  health,  Thou'rt  young,  Ralph, 
very  young." 

"I  am  a  man,"  he  answered  quietly;  "I  have  lived' 
through  much,  and  thought  a  deal.  Madam,  my  faith 
will  never  alter." 

"Then  God  help  thee!"  she  cried.  "None  else  can, 
here  or  hereafter.  Thou  hast  arrayed  the  world  against 
thee.  Puritan  and  malignant  alike  will  cry  shame  upon 
thine  unbelief;  all  will  cast  out  one  who  denies  the  God- 
head of  Christ.  My  son  alone,  for  the  sake  of  the  love 
he  bore  thy  father  and  thy  usefulness  as  a  soldier,  will 
keep  his  hand  in  thine.  I  beseech  thee,  think  and  pause 
while  there  is  yet  time.  I  wish  thee  so  well,  that  I  would 
take  any  means  to  hold  thee  back ;  yet  what  are  my  words 
to  thee?  Rachel,"  turning  in  her  agitation  to  the  girl, 
"  speak  thou  to  him.  I  mean  it.  Thou  hast  more  power 
than  I  —  the  power  of  youth  and  womanhood.  He  inttst 
not  cast  himself  away." 

Her  voice  rose  almost  to  a  shriek,  and  her  face  was 
white.     Rachel  bent  over  her  and  kissed  her  forehead. 

"  Dearest  granny,  what  can  I  say  or  do?  Sir,  you 
hear  her  words.  Must  you  so  soon  forsake  your  friends 
and  —  and  their  religion?  Could  you  not  seek  counsel 
from  some  godly  minister,  who  might  dissipate  your 
doubts?  'Twill  be  so  sad,  so  terrible  for  you.  Is  there 
no  hope?" 

"  Indeed,  I  trust  not."  He  had  drawn  back  a  step, 
and  now  spoke  with  a  proud  dignity  they  had  never 
seen  before. 

"Madam,  you  mistake  the  matter;  I  have  found,  not 
forsook,  religion.  I  have  no  doubts.  My  faith  is  as 
sacred  and  dear  to  me  as  yours  to  you." 

153 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Nay,  I  believe  that,"  Rachel  cried  hastily,  "1  do, 
indeed.  I  meant  not  to  insult  your  —  what  you  believe; 
that  would  be  my  last  thought.  I  only  meant  that  — 
that  there  is  but  one  religion  in  the  world  to  me,  and  it 
was  grievous  to  think  a  friend  should  depart  from  it." 

"  And  if  he  hath  done,  if  his  mind  and  soul  be  set 
another  way,"  Ralph  cried  with  sudden  energy,  "  doth 
he  cease  to  be  your  friend?  Cover  not  your  real  feelings, 
I  pray  you,  with  soft  words.  I  would  know  naught  but 
the  truth,  however  bitter,  from  your  lips  to-night.  We 
have  worked  together,  you  have  called  me  friend.  Is 
that  friendship  killed  by  this  difterence  in  our  faiths?  I 
know  what  others  think,"  looking  at  Madam  Cromwell, 
who  was  listening  with  strained  attention,  glancing  from 
one  face  to  the  other  with  gleaming  eyes;  "but  you  — 
tell  me  your  mind." 

He  stood  with  his  back  to  the  door,  and,  in  his  excite- 
ment, did  not  hear  it  open,  and  until  he  saw  Rachel 
glance  behind  him  was  unconscious  that  Cromwell  and 
Capell  had  entered  while  he  was  speaking.  Even  then 
he  did  not  move  or  take  his  eyes  from  Rachel's  face. 
Nor  was  she  backward  in  her  answer,  and  her  eyes  met 
his  unwaveringly. 

"  I  hold  your  friendship  in  too  much  honour,  sir. 
God  keep  you  always;  I  can  only  wish  you  well." 

"Amen  —  amen  to  that,"  said  Cromwell,  now  coming 
forward  and  taking  her  hand.  "  So  do  we  all.  Mother, 
we  be  come  at  last,  late  I  know,  but  there  was  much  to 
do.  Now  all  is  finished,  and  we  are  free  to  take  our  rest 
until  break  of  day  to-morrow.  Now,  Master  Cornet, 
prithee  put  oflf  thy  black  humours.  Capell,  this  man  is 
the  most  sensitive  of  fellows;  see  to  it  in  your  dealings 
with  him.  A  look  askance,  a  hasty  word  of  doubtful 
meaning,  and  he  will  draw  upon  thee.  These  cakes  thy 
handiwork,  Rachel?  Faith,  girl,  they  do  thee  credit.  I 
see  my  wife  hath  taught  thee.  And  that  reminds  me, 
mother,  she  sent  her  duty,  but  being  indifferent  well  was 

154 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

fain  to  be  excused  to-night.  Bridget  and  Betty  are  upon 
their  way.  Here  they  come,"  as  the  door  opened.  "  I 
knew  they'd  not  leave  us  long  in  peace.  Now  that  we 
are  all  assembled  we  might  sing  a  psalm  in  parts. 
Choose  one  for  us,  mother.  Rachel  and  Master  Ralph, 
with  that  high  voice  of  his,  will  lead  us.  Betsy,  run  for 
the  music-scrolls;  they  are  in  my  library.  Then  join  thy 
sweet  pipe  to  my  untuneful  one.  Truth!  we'll  make 
the  old  house  ring  with  our  psalmody." 

He  moved  briskly  about  the  room  as  he  talked,  gather- 
ing chairs  into  a  semicircle  opposite  Madam  Cromwell's, 
and  when  Betty  returned  with  some  music-sheets  he 
handed  them  to  one  and  another,  and  called  upon  Rachel 
to  begin  with  a  verse  alone.  There  were  not  enough 
sheets  to  go  round,  and  Ralph  and  Capell  both  made  a 
movement  to  share  theirs  with  Rachel.  Capell  was  near- 
est, but,  thanking  him,  she  took  Ralph's.  A  very  little 
thing  it  was,  yet  never  forgotten  by  the  men.  Then 
Rachel  sang,  and  her  voice,  pure  and  fresh  as  a  bird's, 
filled  the  room.  The  rest  chimed  in  at  the  second  verse, 
Betty's  shrill  soprano  and  Cromwell's  harsh  bass  making 
a  quaint  discord;  while  Madam  Cromwell,  with  her  Bible 
before  her,  watched  Ralph's  dark  face  and  Rachel's  fair 
one  bent  over  the  same  scroll,  and  sighed.  They  sang 
the  ninety-fourth  psalm,  a  favourite  of  Cromwell's, 
beginning  with  the  words,  "  O  God,  to  whom  vengeance 
belongeth,  show  Thyself.  Lift  up  Thyself,  Thou  judge 
of  the  earth;  render  a  reward  to  the  proud."  The  last 
verse  of  all  he  made  them  sing  twice,  his  voice  rising 
above  the  rest,  Capell  droning  a  grim  accompaniment. 
"  And  He  shall  bring  upon  them  their  own  iniquity,  and 
shall  cut  them  off  in  their  own  wickedness;  yea,  the 
Lord  our  God  shall  cut  them  off." 

When  the  singing  was  over  refreshments  were  handed 
round  by  the  girls,  and  Cromwell,  seating  himself  by 
Ralph,  told  him  in  an  undertone  the  latest  news  from 
the  army  and  the  Parliament.     He  had  often  done  this 

155 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

before;  but  to-night  there  was  more  cordiality  in  his  tone 
than  usual.  He  made  a  timely  reference  to  approval 
expressed  in  high  quarters  of  a  new  system  of  cavalry 
drill  which  Ralph  had  introduced  into  the  troop,  and 
before  their  talk  was  over  Ralph's  gloomiest  thoughts 
and  forebodings  had  vanished.  The  struggle  that  was 
coming,  and  enthusiasm  for  the  public  w^eal  and  the  prac- 
tical problems  before  them,  filled  his  mind  and  absorbed 
his  thoughts,  while  behind  it  all,  warming  his  heart  and 
comforting  him  inexpressibly,  were  Rachel's  words.  Let 
the  world  do  its  worst;  he  had  one  friend. 

After  prayers  Cromwell  went  again  to  his  mother's 
room.     He  found  her  reading  her  Bible. 

"  Tell  me,  mother,"  he  said,  closing  the  door  care- 
fully, "what  hath  the  youth  said?  Pish!  he  is  for  ever 
flaunting  his  heresy  in  some  godly  face.  First,  at  Hep- 
worth  for  speaking  harshly  of  his  father,  now  before  this 

Capell.     The  first  a  fanatic,  the  second  a  —  h'm! " 

Cromwell  finished  his  sentence  with  a  grimace.  "  No," 
as  his  mother  looked  up  questioningly,  "  I  say  not  what 
he  may  be,  for  I  do  not  know.  He  is  a  soldier  and  a 
good  one,  that  is  certain.  Moreover  he  gave  up  the 
commission  of  a  captain  to  serve  as  my  lieutenant.  But 
what  of  Ralph?" 

Madam  Cromwell  repeated  his  words  from  memory, 
adding  with  some  emphasis,  "  But  I  do  not  despair.  He 
is  neither  irreverent  nor  light-minded.  One  day  the  scales 
will  fall  from  his  eyes.  He  will  stand  aghast  at  his  own 
blasphemy  and  repent." 

Cromwell  shook  his  head.  "  Tush !  not  he.  I  say  he 
will  not,  dear  mother.  It  is  in  his  blood.  I  have  fore- 
seen this  since  he  came  first.  You  rate  not  high  enough 
the  strength  of  a  young  man's  will.  Dost  forget  what 
you  said  yourself  about  him  were  he  to  fall  in  love?  His 
mind  is  very  set.  He  will  never  come  to  me,  and  were 
I  to  attack  him  his  answers  would  be  sharp  and  heavy 
as  a  broadsword  stroke.     Nay,  take  him  as  he  is.     As 

156 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  maiden  said,  God  keep  him  always.  We  must  leave 
the  issue  in  His  hands.  Beshrew  me,  mother,  but  our 
little  girl  is  of  high  courage.  Not  many  would  so  address 
a  youth  in  our  presence.  Yet  she  did  it,  and  without 
the  quiver  of  an  eyelid.  Pity  she  be  not  a  man,  she 
should  be  my  lieutenant  before  them  all." 

"  I  pray  nightly,  son,  that  your  Oliver  may  win  her 
love." 

At  these  words  Cromwell,  who  had  been  falling  into 
a  thoughtful  and  dreamy  mood,  looked  round,  and  a 
curious  smile  passed  over  his  face. 

"  Your  prayers,  mother,  will  never  go  unanswered. 
And  yet  I  have  heard  ye  say  that  words  spoken  to  the 
Almighty  should  come  from  the  heart.  Is  it  your  dear- 
est wish  that  Oliver  should  take  Rachel  to  wife?  He  is 
your  grandson,  but  you  love  one  better  than  he." 

"Sayst  so,  son,"  the  old  lady  replied,  looking  back 
at  him  very  keenly;  "  who  could  it  be  then?  " 

*'  Ralph,  the  heretic,"  Cromwell  rejoined  in  his  curtest 
tone,  *'  who  minds  ye  of  your  youth." 

Madam  Cromwell  smiled  a  little.  "  Thy  penetration, 
son,  would  pierce  a  shield  of  triple  brass.  But  turn 
thine  eyes  toward  thyself  before  thou  blamest  me.  Lay 
thy  hand  upon  thy  Bible  and  then  say " 

But  Cromwell  stopped  her  by  a  gesture,  and  his  face 
was  stern.  "  Nay,  that  I  will  not.  I  have  not  blamed 
you  —  God  is  my  witness!  But  was  I  not  right  to  take 
my  oath  with  Hepworth?  God  help  our  lad!  He  hath 
put  himself  to-night  beyond  a  chance  of  happiness,  even 
as  by  the  same  breath  he  hath  awakened  her  regard. 
Truly,  the  heart  of  woman  is  unfathomable.  Well,  we 
march  to-morrow.  They  shall  never  meet  again  as 
heretofore." 

He  stooped  to  kiss  his  mother's  hand.  She  drew  his 
face  down  and  embraced  him,  and  he  felt  that  her  cheeks 
were  wet  with  tears. 

"  I  cannot  gainsay  thee,  Oliver,"  she  said  brokenly. 

157 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  God's  will  be  done.  Her  soul,  at  all  costs,  must  pre- 
serve its  purity.  They  must  not  be  united  unless  his 
faith  returns.  But  my  heart  is  sore ;  and  thine,  I  see  full 
well,  be  sorer  still.  Fear  not  that  I  shall  vex  thee  by 
a  word,  Thou'rt  right  as  always.  The  Lord  be  with 
thee,  dearest  son." 

In  another  part  of  the  house  Lieutenant  Capell  was 
writing  a  letter,  covering  sheet  after  sheet  with  a  small 
neat  hand.  It  was  addressed  to  Isaac  Hepworth,  and 
began  with  a  brief  account  of  his  recent  movements, 
present  work  and  position.  Then  followed  these  words, 
more  interesting  to  his  correspondent  than  all  that  had 
gone  before:  — 

"  According  to  your  wishes  I  have  kept  strict  watch  upon 
both  man  and  maid.  Suspicions  implanted  at  our  first  acquaint- 
ance have  been  daily  growing  upon  me.  To-night  all  have  been 
confirmed.  Indeed  I  would  suggest  that  when  next  you  hear 
our  troop  is  quartered  in  this  town  it  should  suit  your  con- 
venience to  journey  hither  yourself.  This  evening  he  declared 
before  us  all  that  he  was  a  Socinian  even  as  his  father  had  been. 
But  there  was  more  than  this;  he  claimed  her  friendship,  which 
she  gave  unto  him  in  a  manner  that  might  mean  much  more. 
Further  and  lastly,  her  guardian  with  emphasis  and  meaning 
said  Amen  to  all  she  spake.  Truly,  when  I  say  that  none  here 
are  to  be  trusted,  and  that  as  concerning  true  religion  I  feel  as 
a  man  among  vipers,  you  will  understand  how  grave  be  the 
condition  of  afifairs.  The  best  news  is  that  by  dawn  we  shall  be 
on  the  march.  The  steel  of  a  malignant  may  relieve  your  anxi- 
eties.    If  we  all  return,  beware! 

"  I  rest,  your  humblest  servitor, 

*  Geoffrey  Capell." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

CROMWELL'S  troop  joined  the  Parliamentary 
army  under  Lord  Essex  at  Stratford,  on  October 
i8th.  The  rumour  ran  that  the  king  was  on  the  march 
for  Oxford  or  London,  and  that  Lord  Essex  was  to 
intercept  him  and  give  battle  as  soon  as  possible. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  they  arrived.  The 
country  round  about  was  overrun  with  men  and  horses 
as  with  a  plague  of  locusts.  The  farms  and  gentlemen's 
houses  were  full  of  ofBcers ;  in  the  cottages,  under  hedge- 
rows and  haystacks,  in  copses  and  woods  were  scattered 
the  soldiers,  taking  such  shelter  as  they  could  find.  The 
march  was  over  for  the  day.  The  infantry  were  cooking 
their  supper;  the  cavalry,  who  had  arrived  first,  were 
strolling  about  singly  and  in  groups.  None  of  the  men 
wore  uniform.  Here  were  a  regiment  of  pikemen  with 
their  weapons,  sixteen  feet  long,  of  ash  tipped  with  steel, 
stacked  together  like  poles  in  a  hop-field.  These  stal- 
wart countrymen  were  dressed  in  brown  leathern  jerkins 
and  hose,  stout  walking  shoes,  and  grey  worsted  stock- 
ings, and  were  resting  on  the  banks  of  a  stream,  examin- 
ing tender  toes  and  blistered  heels  after  their  march. 
Near  them  were  two  regiments  of  musketeers.  Their 
dress  was  much  the  same  as  the  pikemen,  though  many 
had  a  broad  leathern  lappet  on  the  left  shoulder  to  sup- 
port their  heavy  muskets.  A  very  weary  set  were  these 
musketeers.  Their  matchlocks,  heavy  pieces  of  metal, 
had,  before  firing,  to  be  placed  upon  the  ground  in  iron 
rests,  and  were  discharged  by  means  of  pieces  of  tarred 
rope,  which  were  set  alight  before  the  men  went  into 
action  and  kept  alight  until  the  battle  was  over;  and 

159 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

these  rests,  ropes,  and  matchlocks  had  to  be  carried 
wherever  the  soldier  marched.  On  the  right  of  the 
musketeers  was  a  squadron  of  horse,  the  animals  staked 
out  on  grass  and  furnished  with  a  due  allowance  of  corn. 
Their  riders  were  clothed  in  long,  loosely-fitting  coats 
of  leather  or  cloth  reaching  to  the  knee,  with  wide  skirts 
ornamented  by  enormous  buttons.  Their  legs  were 
encased  in  baggy  overalls  of  the  same  material,  the  dress 
completed  by  huge  calfskin  boots,  and  spurs  in  all  stages 
of  dirt  and  rust.  Their  clothes  were  rudely  cut,  stained 
and  creased  with  the  marks  of  their  armour,  which  had 
been  put  off  to  ease  their  weary  shoulders.  Upon .  the 
arrival  of  the  Ely  troop  these  cavalrymen  crowded  up 
to  examine  its  equipment.  Their  manner  of  doing  this 
was  various.  Many  did  no  more  than  stare  curiously  at 
the  new  comers;  while  other  of  facetious  turn  of  mind 
made  comments,  trenchant  and  mostly  coarse,  concern- 
ing the  carriage  and  dress  of  the  East  Anglians.  Greatly 
to  their  surprise  they  received  no  reply  to  their  banter. 
Reuben  Sweetlove,  aware  of  the  ways  of  raw  troops,  and 
jealous  of  the  dignity  and  discipline  of  his  men,  had 
induced  Cromwell  to  give  strict  order  that  while  on  duty 
the  troop  was  to  be  deaf  to  anyone  save  its  olBcers. 
Therefore,  upon  the  word  being  given  to  halt,  while 
Cromwell  went  forward  to  report  his  arrival  to  Lord 
Essex,  leaving  his  men  under  command  of  Capell,  the 
troopers  sat  their  horses  unmoved  by  the  gibes  and 
questions  of  the  crowd,  stifT  and  stolid  as  though  the 
speakers  had  been  magpies.  At  this  chilling  reception 
the  men  one  by  one  fell  silent  and  were  moving  away, 
when  a  man  —  an  officer,  to  judge  by  the  orange  scarf 
across  his  breast  —  dressed  in  full  armour,  but  without 
his  helmet,  swaggered  forward  with  gestures  which  drew 
all  eyes  upon  him. 

"'Sblood,  boys,  what  have  we  here?  Such  mummi- 
fied loons  I  never  beheld  —  on  my  life,  I  have  not!  What 
be  they  —  sacks  filled  with  sand,  tacked  together  with 

i6o 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Staves  and  rusty  iron?  God  a'  mercy!  lend  me  a  pike, 
and  let  me  see  if  they  run  water  or  wind  —  men  they 
cannot  be." 

There  was  a  roll  in  the  speaker's  gait,  he  was  obviously 
tipsy.  Yet  a  certain  authority  in  his  tone,  and  the  idle 
humour  of  the  men,  gave  him  an  advantage,  and  his 
words  were  greeted  with  appreciative  laughter.  This 
excited  him.  He  drew  his  rapier  with  a  flourish,  and 
addressed  the  trooper  nearest  him,  who  happened  to  be 
Corporal  Micklejohn." 

"Speak,  ye  little  pup!  Tell  me  who  and  what  thou 
art,  or  by  Beelzebub,  as  the  malignants  have  it,  my 
sword-point  shall  prick  thee  into  piping  a  shrill  and 
proper  tune." 

It  was  a  critical  moment.  Jem's  gorge  rose  at  the 
insult,  and  Ralph  saw  his  hand  stealthily  seek  the  hilt 
of  his  heavy  broadsword.  In  another  instant  blood 
would  be  spilt.  Ralph  glanced  at  Capell,  but  he  looked 
on  indififerently.  The  stranger,  with  a  jeering  laugh, 
made  a  mock  pass  at  the  corporal,  whose  eyes  flashed 
fire.  Ralph  could  endure  no  more,  and,  setting  spurs  to 
his  horse,  rode  in  between  them. 

"How  now,  sir!  Keep  your  distance  from  my  men, 
and  put  that  blade  away.  Were  you  not  an  of^cer  you 
should  be  well  trounced  for  this.  Draw  off,  and  quickly! 
Corporal,  be  you  quiet." 

Ralph's  action  was  so  sudden,  his  tone  so  peremptory, 
that  the  man  in  spite  of  his  bravado  started  backwards, 
and  in  his  haste  tripped  over  the  scabbard  of  his  sword, 
and  fell  sprawling  on  the  ground.  A  peal  of  laughter 
greeted  his  discomfiture,  hushed  quickly  however  as  he 
sprang  to  his  feet.  He  was  sobered  by  the  fall,  and  his 
face  was  white  with  rage.  He  glared  at  Ralph  with  a 
haughty  stare. 

"  Your  name  and  rank  in  this  troop?  "  he  said. 

"  Ralph  Dangerfield,  Cornet.     Yours,  sir?  " 

II  i6i 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Pshaw!"  was  the  contemptuous  answer,  "that  you 
shall  learn  ere  long.     Thy  captain's  name?" 

Ralph's  blood  boiled.  "  Nay,  by  my  faith,  I'll  answer 
no  more  questions  till  I  know  thy  name." 

The  stranger  laughed  unpleasantly,  and  Ralph  noticed 
that  he  had  a  strong,  clever  face,  heavy  brows,  and  a  pair 
of  sinister,  grey  eyes  which  seemed  familiar,  though  he 
could  not  remember  where  he  had  seen  them  before. 

"  By  Gad,  young  'un,  thou'rt  a  froward  slip  of  inso- 
lence. Why — Hillo!  I  spy  a  friend.  Master  Geoffrey 
Capell,  what  dost  here,  man?  Serve  you  under  him, 
then?     'Slife!  fortune  must  have  used  you  ill." 

"  I  am  lieutenant,  Sir  John,"  was  the  answer,  spoken 
in  a  surly  yet  respectful  tone.  "  'Tis  to  be  regretted 
that  the  young  man  hath  hasty  blood,  but,  as  you  see, 
he  knows  you  not." 

The  man  showed  his  teeth  with  a  mocking  smile. 

"Zounds,  man!  'tis  a  riddle  which  of  you  is  in  author- 
ity. An'  you  be,  prithee  tell  him  my  name  and  rank, 
and  bid  him  beg  my  pardon." 

Capell  turned  to  Ralph  with  a  slight  shrug  of  the 
shoulders.  "  This  gentleman,  cornet,  is  Sir  John  Saling- 
ford,  nephew  to  the  Lord-General,  and  captain  of  a  troop 
in  his  lordship's  own  regiment  of  horse.  'T would  be 
meet,  perchance,  if  you  explain  that  you  spoke  in 
ignorance  of  his  station." 

"  I  did,  without  a  doubt,"  Ralph  answered  grimly. 
"  Had  I  known  whom  I  was  addressing,  truly  my  words 
had  been  more  pointed.     Your  servant,  Sir  John." 

A  titter  ran  through  the  troop,  and  Micklejohn  laughed 
aloud,  but  Salingford  did  not  appear  to  hear  it.  He  was 
looking  hard  at  Ralph,  muttering  to  himself:  — 

"  Dangerfield  —  Dan-gerfield.  Is  that  thy  name? 
Faith,  I  recollect  now  where  I  have  seen  ye.  Thou  wert 
at  Cambridge  —  a  Sidney  man  —  sworn  boon  companion 
of  the  rake-hell  Charlton,  now  a  captain  of  the  Royal 
Guard."     He  gave  a  loud,  ugly  laugh.     "  Verily,  but  it 

162 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

shall  be  my  privilege  to  acquaint  thy  captain  of  the  orna- 
ment that  his  most  godly  troop  of  wooden  churls  hath 
in  thee.  I  must  to  my  quarters.  I  bid  ye  good-bye,  fair 
lieutenant.  If  this  cuckoldy  braggart  of  thine  be  as  rare 
a  hand  with  the  dice  and  the  women  as  he  used  to  be 
at  college  thou'lt  have  thy  work  cut  out  for  thee.  Is  thy 
captain  of  a  piece?  " 

He  laughed  again,  and  swaggered  away,  with  a  con- 
temptuous nod  to  Capell. 

Ralph  drew  a  long  breath  of  disgust. 

"  Have  you  many  such  ofBcers?"  he  said  to  the  lieu- 
tenant. "  Surely  this  one  should  be  cashiered  for  a  sot 
and  a  wastrel." 

"  He  hath  sharp  teeth  and  much  influence,"  was  the 
curt  reply.     "  Were  I  you  I  should  avoid  his  company." 

"  Let  him  avoid  mine,"  Ralph  rejoined  with  curling 
lip.  "  My  sword  is  at  his  service  day  or  night,  though 
'tis  a  pity  to  soil  good  steel." 

"  Brave  words,"  sneered  Capell,  who  was  sore  and 
ill  at  ease,  conscious  that  this  incident  had  done  him 
no  good  with  his  men,  angry  with  everyone  concerned, 
and  particularly  with  Ralph.  "  Pity  they  were  not 
spoken  in  his  presence.  They  have  lost  their  flavour 
now.  Hist!  here  be  the  captain,"  he  added  in  a  low 
tone,  as  Cromwell  rode  up,  "  he  had  better  know  naught 
of  this." 

But  Ralph  was  of  a  contrary  opinion. 

"  If  I  have  exceeded  my  duty,"  he  said  aloud,  "  let  me 
be  punished.     I  will  conceal  nothing." 

Cromwell,  however,  saved  him  the  trouble  of 
confession. 

"  Hast  been  interfered  with,  lieutenant?  "  he  said  to 
Capell.  "  I  seemed  to  hear  laughter  and  loud  talking 
hereabouts.     I  trust  my  order  hath  been  remembered." 

"  There  was  but  one  oiYender,"  Capell  replied  with 
unruffled  countenance.     "  We  dealt  v^^ith  him  resolutely." 

"  One.  That  must  have  been  the  officer  I  saw  with- 
163 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

out  a  pot,  who  raised  his  Up  as  I  passed  him.     What  said 
he?" 

"  The  ruffle  was  not  with  me,"  Capell  repHed.  "  It 
seems  that  Sir  John  Sahngford  —  that  is  his  name,  sir 
—  knew  your  cornet  formerly.  The  dispute  arose 
between  the  two  " ;  with  which  parting  shaft  he  left  Ralph 
to  tell  his  own  story.  Cromwell  listened  with  grave, 
unmoved  face  to  a  description  of  the  encounter. 

"  You  acted  right,"  he  said.  '*  But  mind  me,  friend, 
no  duels.  I  know  the  man.  An  unworthy  member  of 
an  ancient  house.  Hold  thy  tongue  and  thy  temper  fast. 
If  he  challenge  at  once  acquaint  me.  Dost  promise 
that?" 

Ralph  coloured  high  and  bit  his  lip.  It  was  a  hard 
condition  to  make  in  those  times,  but  with  Cromwell's 
eye  upon  him  he  could  not  hesitate,  and  gave  his  word. 
Cromwell  was  pleased. 

"  That  was  worthily  said,"  he  rejoined.  "  We  march 
now  another  half  a  mile.  Quartermaster,  preserve  close 
discipline.  There  be  more  souls  lost  in  camp  at  night 
than  lives  in  day  of  battle." 

The  army  marched  for  three  days  without  hearing 
definitely  of  the  king's  forces,  though  it  was  known  now 
that  he  was  on  his  way  to  London.  It  was  a  slow  and 
tiresome  business.  There  was  no  organisation  and  no 
commissariat  worthy  of  the  name ;  and  though  the  people 
of  the  surrounding  country  were  favourably  inclined, 
and  brought  in  a  fair  supply  of  provisions,  a  certain 
amount  of  foraging  was  necessary,  which  added  to  the 
fatigues  of  the  march,  and  rendered  real  discipline,  even 
among  the  best  regiments,  very  hard  to  maintain. 
Besides  this,  the  uncertainty  of  the  enemy's  whereabouts, 
exaggerated  reports  of  the  equipment  and  strength  of 
his  forces,  and  a  fatal  hesitancy  at  their  own  headquar- 
ters, gave  the  Parliamentary  officers  much  anxiety,  and 
spread  uneasiness  like  a  disease  throughout  the  rank  and 
file. 

164 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

The  Earl  of  Essex  was  in  many  ways  a  worthy  com- 
mander. A  brave  and  conscientious  man,  he  possessed 
vakiable  experience,  was  shrewd,  careful,  farseeing;  he 
could  be  doggedly  persevering  also  in  pursuit  of  a  pur- 
pose when  he  had  once  made  up  his  mind,  but  it  took 
him  a  long  while  to  do  so.  The  genius  which  at  a  criti- 
cal moment  could  turn  a  defeat  into  a  victory,  the  force 
and  energy  which  could  make  that  victory  crushing  and 
decisive,  was  not  his.  The  officers  knew  this  before  a 
shot  was  fired.  They  knew,  too,  the  rawness  of  their 
men,  and  especially  the  weakness  of  their  cavalry  —  then 
the  principal  fighting  arm  —  and  it  was  with  feelings  of 
sore  uncertainty  and  even  forebodings  of  disaster  that 
the  thoughtful  men  in  the  army  of  the  Parliament  heard 
of  the  advance  of  Rupert's  scouts  from  Banbury  way, 
and  quartered  their  men  for  the  night  in  Kineton  village. 

The  king  was  said  to  be  but  ten  miles  off,  advancing 
steadily,  and  all  knew  that  in  the  morning  would  be 
fought  the  first  battle  of  the  Civil  War. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  army  of  the  Parliament  in  October,  1642,  was 
not  a  model  army.  Discipline  was  lax,  and  esprit 
de  corps  scarcely  existed.  The  troops  had  been  hastily 
collected,  the  men  were  mostly  without  training,  and 
their  leaders  had  no  fixed  principle  of  action.  They  had, 
however,  one  feeling  in  common  —  all  believed  that  the 
time  had  come  when  a  determined  protest  must  be  made 
by  force  of  arms  against  a  system  of  government  which 
had  oppressed  rich  and  poor  alike,  which  defied  the  law 
of  the  land,  narrowed  religion  down  to  slavish  obedience 
to  one  arrogant  sect,  and  rendered  the  lives  of  the 
majority  of  its  subjects  hardly  worth  the  living;  and  so 
strong  and  widely-spread  was  this  feeling  among  the 
average  Englishman  of  the  southern  and  eastern  coun- 
ties, that  Lord  Essex's  army,  in  spite  of  all  its  faults, 
was  a  formidable  body  of  men. 

The  day  dawned  fresh  and  cool  on  October  23rd,  1642. 
The  air  was  sharp  and  frosty  until  the  sun  gained  power; 
a  keen  wind  blew  over  the  Warwickshire  vales,  and 
breakfast  was  eaten  with  particular  relish  by  all  those 
who  had  not  partaken  too  liberally  the  night  before  of 
the  hospitality  of  the  countryside.  Cromwell's  troopers, 
thanks  to  Sweetlove's  vigilance  and  their  own  common 
sense,  having  remained  sober  to  a  man,  were  the  first 
to  answer  the  reveillee,and  sunrise  saw  them  vigourously 
cleaning  armour,  grooming  horses,  and  putting  the  last 
polish  upon  spurs  and  bridle-chains. 

It  was  Sunday,  and  the  bells  of  Kineton  Church  were 
ringing  for  early  service,  answered  in  the  distance  by  a 
peal  from  Radway,  a  village  four  miles  southward,  nest- 

166 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

ling  under  the  heights  of  Edge  Hill.  The  army,  how- 
ever, was  in  no  mood  to  attend  religious  services;  and 
although  their  chaplains,  of  which  every  regiment,  and 
in  many  cases  every  troop,  had  one,  delivered  discourses 
among  them,  these  good  men  received  little  attention. 
The  colonels  were  in  council  with  the  commander-in- 
chief,  and  every  other  man  in  the  army  was  gazing 
southward  and  eastward  across  the  valley  below  Kineton 
to  the  hills  beyond,  where  the  Royalist  cavalry  pickeer- 
ers  had  been  seen  the  night  before.  The  men  of  Crom- 
well's troop  were  soon  at  liberty  to  devote  their  full 
attention  to  this  absorbing  occupation  and  to  speculate 
freely  upon  the  probable  position  of  the  enemy.  Crom- 
well was  at  headquarters,  Capell  was  writing  one  of  his 
interminable  letters  to  London,  and  Ralph,  as  anxious  as 
his  men,  attached  himself  to  the  group  from  whom  he 
was  likely  to  get  the  most  information  —  Sanctify  Jor- 
dan, Micklejohn,  and  the  quartermaster.  It  was  a  sign 
of  their  confidence  in  him  that  his  presence  had  not  the 
least  restraint  upon  their  freedom  of  speech. 

"  Hearts,  man!"  Jem  was  saying  to  Sanctify;  "don't 
give  thyself  the  conceit  that  thou  canst  teach  an  old 
soldier  his  business.  I  see  with  thee  some  pike-points 
glistening  in  the  sun  on  those  heights  to  the  right;  but 
if  the  king's  army  lay  there  we'd  see  more  than  pikes. 
Tis  a  strong  position;  an'  I  say  again,  had  my  Lord 
Essex  been  advised  by  me  he'd  have  advanced  at  dawn, 
swept  away  those  straggling  pickeerers,  and  commanded 
the  heights  himself.  They  will  now  be  taken  by  the 
enemy  sure,  and  o'erlooking  us,  they'll  note  our  weakest 
places.  Pah,  what  a  mole  the  general  be!  Would  I 
were  in  his  boots  a  matter  of  some  twelve  hours." 

"  The  Lord  help  the  army  then,"  said  the  quartermas- 
ter gruffly;  "naught  but  a  miracle  would  save  it.  A 
plague  on  thee,  Jem,  for  the  most  feather-pated  rogue 
that  e'er  wore  spurs.  Where's  thy  brain  and  sense  run 
to,  man?     Advance  to  the  heights,  quota!     Why  the 

167 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

malignants  ha'  been  there  hours  —  pikes,  musketeers, 
horsemen,  and  guns;  snug  in  the  dip  behind  the  hedge, 
I'll  wager.  What  they  mean  by  letting  their  pikes 
twinkle  in  air  for  us  to  see  the  Lord  knows;  but  there 
they  be.  Didst  ever  know  infantry  outstep  cavalry? 
Are  pikes  mounted  on  horseback?  Well,  then,  how 
could  such  be  so  close,  and  the  rest  far  enough  away  to 
give  us  time  to  cross  nigh  two  leagues  of  rough  ground 
and  scale  the  cliffs?  Woof!  get  thee  to  bed  again,  thou 
muddlehead." 

"Sooth,  crack  thy  joke,  then,  comrade!"  muttered 
the  corporal,  looking  decidedly  crestfallen.  "  I'll 
acknowledge  I  may  have  blundered.  I'm  but  a  trooper, 
and  know  naught  of  your  lead-footed  infantry-men. 
Give  me  a  few  squadrons  of  horse  and  I'd " 

"Harry  every  hen-roost  in  four  counties!"  growled 
Sweetlove.  "Out  upon  thee,  scatter-brain!  Now  hold 
thy  tongue  and  listen  to  me,  who  was  soldiering  over 
in  Deutschland  afore  thou  wert  out  of  petticoats.  When 
I've  done  make  contradiction,  an'  you  please.  Younk- 
ers,  mine  eyes  have  been  upon  those  heights  and  over 
every  knoll  and  rise  and  fall  o'  the  land  since  daybreak, 
and  the  plan  of  the  battle  that's  to  be  is  clear  to  me  as 
sunlight  at  noon  —  not  the  outcome  of  it,  mind.  Nay, 
that  is  a  different  story.  Many's  the  army  put  into  the 
field  wi'out  a  crease  in  its  battalia-line,  wi'  every  regi- 
ment in  place,  and  every  place  the  best,  and  yet  when 
the  scuffle  comes  'tis  beaten  to  dirt  e'en  by  such  gabble- 
tongues  as  our  corporal.  The  general  whom  I'd  lay  my 
life  upon  must  be  one  who  sees  straightest  when  his 
flank  is  turned,  and,  spying  the  enemy's  weak  place,  fast- 
eneth  upon  it,  and  strikes  time  and  again.  I  doubt  if 
we'll  find  that  commander  in  our  godly  army  yet.  But 
he  will  come,  and  they  over  yonder  may  be  no  better 
furnished.  Friends,  pass  your  eyes  along  the  ridge 
slowly,  starting  at  the  right  —  their  left  flank,  can't  ye 
see    summat    besides    pikes?     Chut!    there's    cavalry! 

i68 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Look  how  the  sun  catches  their  breasts  and  plumes! 
Cuirassiers,  i'  faith!  And  there,  further  along,  in  and 
out  'tween  those  trees,  come  more  helmets  —  footmen, 
musketeers,  belike.  Ah!  and  what  is  that  o'er  their 
heads?" 

"  A  colonel's  pennant,"  the  corporal  struck  in  confi- 
dently, glad  of  the  chance  of  a  word.  "  Truly,  a  gay 
bit  of  bunting,  something  larger  than  our  own." 

"Pennant — ^thou  calf!"  roared  Sweetlove,  with  a 
loud  guffaw.  "  Donner  an'  Blitzen,  it  is  the  Royal  Stand- 
ard! Colonel,  sayest  thou?  The  king  himself  is  there. 
Then  those  men  we  see  to  the  right  and  left  must  be  the 
Royal  Guard  —  Lindsey's  red-coats,  as  the  little  spy 
we  caught  called  them.  'Twill  be  the  centre  of  the  posi- 
tion, that's  sure.  Now,  can  ye  see  aught  further  to  the 
left?  My  eyes  are  old.  Ye  cannot?  There's  more  bush 
and  timber  than  elsewhere.  That  may  be  the  reason. 
But  'tis  there  somewhere  that  their  right  wing  bides. 
Well,  there  they  be.  And  now,  'tis  we  go  up  or  they 
come  down.  God  grant  my  lord  yields  not  to  any  hot- 
bloods.  On  this  plain  we  should  make  brave  work 
of  it." 

The  old  man  rubbed  his  hands  and  chuckled,  and 
almost  for  the  first  time  since  Ralph  had  first  known 
him  his  face  relaxed  into  a  genuine  smile  of  pleasure 
and  cheerful  anticipation. 

"There,  hear  ye  that?"  he  cried,  as  the  long  blast 
of  a  trumpet  came  from  the  rear,  and  a  number  of  horse- 
men were  to  be  seen  riding  away  from  the  house  where 
Lord  Essex  and  his  stafif  were  quartered.  "  The  coun- 
cil's at  an  end.  'Tis  all  resolved  upon,  and  we'll  be  in 
battalia  'fore  the  sun's  at  the  meridian.  The  godly  min- 
isters will  have  to  end  their  exhortations  for  a  space. 
And  here's  our  captain." 

Cromwell  was  approaching  at  a  leisurely  trot,  far  too 
leisurely  for  his  horse,  which  was  excited  by  the  bustle 
around  him,  and  was  exceedingly  fresh.     But  his  rider 

169 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

was  one  who  controlled  on  principle  all  inclination  to 
hasty  movement  until  the  moment  had  come  for  action. 
In  reality  Cromwell  was  as  nervous  as  the  youngest  man 
in  the  army.  It  was  his  first  battle.  How  would  his 
men  behave?  What  words  should  he  say  to  them  before- 
hand? Such  questions,  and  others  born  of  the  warnings 
of  comrades  of  experience,  oppressed  Cromwell's  mind 
sorely  at  this  moment.  But  not  a  trace  of  this  was  upon 
his  face,  and  his  faculties  of  observation  were  as  alert  as 
usual.  He  noticed,  and  remembered,  that  while  Sweet- 
love,  in  his  excitement,  had  one  hand  upon  Ralph's 
shoulder  while  he  indicated  with  the  other  the  position 
of  the  enemy,  now  clearly  visible,  and  the  Corporal  and 
Trooper  Jordan  stood  by  listening  with  all  their  ears, 
Capell  held  himself  gloomily  aloof. 

"  To  your  posts,  men,"  Cromwell  said  as  he  rode  up. 
"  The  army  takes  position  two  miles  in  advance  of  Kine- 
ton  village,  our  regiment  will  be  upon  the  right  centre. 
Quartermaster,  put  the  troop  in  order  with  what  speed 
you  may.  Capell  and  Dangerfield,  when  you  are 
mounted  advance  a  pace  with  me  upon  the  plain." 

They  found  him  alone,  moodily  observing  the  slowly 
increasing  numbers  on  the  heights. 

"  It  will  be  a  bitter,  bloody  business,"  he  said,  not 
looking  at  them,  and  Ralph  noticed  that  his  face  was 
rigidly  set.  "  Hundreds,  nay  thousands,  will  rush  into 
eternity  to  meet  their  God.  May  He  deal  mercifully 
by  us,  miserable  sinners  as  we  are." 

"  Amen,"  muttered  Capell  fervently.  Ralph  said 
nothing,  and  they  saw  him  smile. 

"  How  now?  "  Cromwell  exclaimed  in  a  tone  of  deep 
anger.  "  Wouldst  mock  at  death  and  hell?  Is  that  thy 
religion?  " 

"  I  mock  at  naught,  sir." 

"Why  smile,  then?" 

"  I  was  thinking  that  for  me  death  would  be  a  blessed 
thing." 

170 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Cromwell  frowned. 

"Art  so  confident  of  God's  mercy?  Hast  been  sin- 
less? Nay,  thy  presumption  is  beyond  all  sense  and 
reason."  Ralph  made  a  motion  of  dissent,  but  Crom- 
well would  not  listen  to  him.  "  Verily  the  curse  of  thy 
unbelief  is  manifest  indeed.  Pray  to  the  Almighty  with 
thy  whole  heart,  that  He  may  chasten  thy  wicked  pride 
and  impious  imaginings  before  thou  art  brought  to  His 
judgment  seat;  or  thy  miserable  soul,  unwashed  by  the 
blood  of  Christ,  naked  and  without  grace,  will  be  dragged 
down  by  devils  to  the  pit,  and  endure  for  ever  the  tor- 
tures of  hell-fire." 

He  paused,  for  his  quick  ear  had  caught  the  sound  of 
horses'  hoofs.  "  Sweetlove  hath  been  prompt,"  he  said 
in  his  natural  voice,  turning  in  his  saddle  as  he  spoke; 
"  the  men  are  in  readiness.  We  shall  be  the  first  at  the 
general's  quarters.     Come!" 

He  wheeled  and  put  spurs  to  his  horse.  His  eye  was 
bright,  his  face  calm  again.  The  bitter  mood  had 
passed. 

The  army  gathered  fast  upon  the  plain.  All  around 
Kineton,  and  down  the  gentle  slope  that  sweeps  unin- 
terruptedly to  the  foot  of  Edge  Hill  Heights,  marched 
the  regiments  in  column,  deploying  in  line  of  battle  two 
miles  beyond  the  village,  there  to  wait  the  advance  of 
the  king  —  if  he  chose  to  advance.  The  country  was 
open,  almost  without  cover,  rough,  waste,  bottom  land, 
somewhat  sodgy  with  recent  autumn  rains,  otherwise 
ideal  ground  for  cavalry. 

Lord  Essex's  regiment,  to  its  great  disgust,  was  placed 
in  reserve,  but  standing  on  slightly  higher  ground  than 
the  rest,  was  able  to  obtain  a  complete  view  of  the  army 
as  it  swept  into  position,  line  by  line,  column  by  col- 
umn —  fourteen  thousand  men. 

Ralph  and  the  quartermaster  were  again  standing 
close  togfether. 


171 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  A  brave  sight,  Reuben.  There  will  be  few  creases 
in  our  battalia  line." 

"  Perchance  not,"  the  old  man  answered  slowly,  "  if 
they  rest  where  I  have  placed  them  in  my  eye.  We  have 
the  downward  slope  to  favour  us  —  such  as  it  be  —  and 
we  are  far  enough  from  the  heights  yonder  to  see  their 
plan  of  battle  as  they  descend.  Ha!  look  ye,  look  ye! 
My  lord  well  knows  his  business  after  all.  See,  at  our 
right  flank  there,  those  musketeers  deploying  behind 
that  hedge!  I  have  watched  the  place  this  hour,  and 
wondered  if  'twould  be  made  any  use  of.  Mark  it  well. 
It  runs  two  hundred  yards  from  Kineton  way  towards 
the  heights,  a  stiff-set  piece  of  cover  —  the  only  bit  there 
is  on  all  the  plain.  Then,  see  you,  our  horse  are  form- 
ing up  at  the  Kineton  end  of  it,  three  regiments  or  more 
—  Meldrum's,  Stapleton's,  and  Balfour's  —  and  behind 
them  the  heavy  guns.  A  strong  position,  sure!  Should 
it  be  broken.  Master  Cornet,  then  may  we  of  the  centre 
say  our  prayers  an'  charge  —  mayhap  for  the  last  time. 
So,  now,  what  is  to  stiffen  this  right  wing  of  ours  — infan- 
try? Aye,  here  they  come  —  purple  coats,  grey  coats, 
and  brown;  Colonel  Fielding's  these.  Lord  Roberts's, 
and  Sir  William  Courtenay's.  Woof!  you  clumsy 
rogues.  Why,  the  musketeers  hold  their  guns  like  mop- 
sticks,  and  the  pikes  are  more  like  to  prod  their  com- 
rades than  bear  down  malignants.  Well  for  the  churls 
they  have  time  to  blunder  in  and  out  of  rank  at  their 
own  time,  and  not  to  the  music  of  squadrons  spurring 
down  upon  'em  at  the  charge.  They'll  march  more 
daintily  a  twelvemonth  hence,  I'll  warrant,  if,"  sarcasti- 
cally, "  there  be  any  left." 

He  grunted  with  a  veteran's  contempt  as  the  strag- 
gling files  tramped  awkwardly  along,  some  treading  upon 
the  heels  of  those  in  front  in  their  excitement,  others 
moving  heavily  and  mechanically  with  a  lurch  in  their 
walk  and  a  hunching  of  broad  shoulders  which  sug- 

172 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

gested  more  familiarity  with  a  plough  tail  than  a  gun. 
But,  as  Reuben  said,  there  was  plenty  of  time. 

It  was  ten  o'clock,  the  sun  had  risen  high,  and  the  air 
was  now  pleasantly  warm,  and  still  no  movement  was 
to  be  seen  upon  the  heights.  The  royal  army  seemed 
waiting,  like  a  hawk  poised  in  mid-air,  uncertain 
whether  to  pounce  or  to  fly  away.  At  length,  on  the 
plain,  the  Parliamentary  infantry  rolled  themselves  into 
position,  the  pikemen  in  the  centre,  flanked  by  the  mus- 
keteers; the  latter  disposed  in  ten  long  ranks,  so  that  the 
front  ranks  after  firing  might  retire  and  reload.  To  the 
left  of  these  was  the  centre  of  the  Parliamentary  army, 
composed  of  Lord  Essex's  regiment  of  horse,  another 
under  Colonel  Ballard,  a  regiment  of  infantry  com- 
manded by  Lord  Brooke,  and  the  train-bands  of  London. 

"  The  weakest  spot  we  show,"  Sweetlove  muttered, 
frowning,  "  be  our  left  wing.  All  the  way  from  that 
knoll  which  hides  the  enemy's  right  there's  naught  to 
stay  him  or  break  his  charge  —  not  so  much  as  one  tree 
or  bush  as  cover  for  our  foot.  And  what  men  have  we 
to  withstand  his  encounter?  In  numbers  plenty,  but 
bad  fighting  stuff.  Our  centre  and  reserve  be  true  and 
tough;  the  London  men  are  stifif-made  rogues  and  will 
stand  some  pushing,  while  these  troopers  of  ours  have 
the  best  mounts  in  the  army.  But  to  the  left  they  are  a 
dreaping  lot,  to  my  fancy,  and  if  the  attack  be  brisk  'twill 
snaffle  'em  all,  horse  and  foot  alike.  Wharton's  lads  are 
slow,  Mandeville's  ill-mounted,  Cholmley's  weak-hearted 
—  'twas  these  swilled  most  liquor  yestere'en.  I'll  wager 
their  pates  under  this  sun  feel  as  if  strung  with  whip- 
cord, and  their  tongues  cleave  to  their  mouths  with 
thirst.  Never  expect  men  in  such  a  plight  to  stay.  But 
eh,  Himmel!  The  enemy  is  coming  on;  the  hills  are 
alive.  They  fight,  then,  on  the  plain.  Give  praise  unto 
the  Lord!" 

He  spoke  in  full,  sonorous  tones.  Half  the  regiment 
heard  him,  and  the  troop  smiled  to  a  man. 

173 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Hear  that?"  Micklejohn  whispered  to  Sanctify. 
"  'Shd !  not  a  mite  of  doubt  now  touching  the  fighting. 
Old  Reuben's  never  nigh  praying  till  he  smells  blood." 

Then  he  fell  silent,  watching  eagerly  with  all  the  rest 
the  advance  of  the  army  of  the  king. 

From  a  brown-roofed  hostelry  on  the  brow  of  the 
ridge  far  to  the  right  — "  The  Sun  Rising  " —  and  along 
the  heights  for  three  miles  eastward,  there  came  into 
view  dark  columns  of  men  and  horses,  winding  slowly 
down  the  hill.  There  were  pikemen  and  musketeers  in 
sober  brown  and  grey;  carabineers  and  dragoons  in  caps 
and  breastplates  of  plain  steel;  and  in  places  a  flash  of 
light  and  colour  —  a  regiment  of  cuirassiers,  the  pick 
of  the  royal  cavalry,  gay  with  their  plumed  helmets  and 
their  plated  armour.  At  first  it  seemed  like  the  pouring 
forth  of  a  confused  mass  —  horse  and  foot  intermingled 
without  order  or  method;  but  presently,  as  the  army 
began  to  deploy  upon  the  plain  below,  its  formation 
became  easily  distinguishable. 

On  the  left  wing,  facing  the  Parliament  right,  were 
cavalry  to  the  number  of  three  thousand,  supported  by 
a  small  body  of  pikemen.  From  the  centre  came  col- 
umn after  column  of  infantry,  the  extreme  flank  stretch- 
ing some  distance  toward  the  thickly-wooded  knoll 
mentioned  by  Sweetlove  as  the  probable  shelter  of  the 
right  wing.  Where  was  this  right  wing?  Of  what  did 
it  consist?  These  questions  were  in  the  minds  of  all 
the  Parliamentary  soldiers,  but  none  could  answer  them. 
Now  and  then  those  with  the  keenest  eyesight  saw  the 
flash  of  a  helmet,  or  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  few  horse- 
men riding  rapidly  to  and  fro  —  enough  to  make  them 
suspect  that  a  considerable  body  of  men,  probably  cav- 
alry, was  concealed  behind  the  hill,  but  nothing  more. 
And  as  the  mysterious  is  always  alarming,  so  greater 
anxiety  was  felt  by  many  about  this  right  wing  than 
about  all  the  rest  of  the  Royalist  army.  By  degrees, 
however,  the  attention  of  the  soldiers  became  centred 

174 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Upon  a  small  body  of  cavalry  near  Radway  village,  in 
the  midst  of  which  the  great  flag  waved  —  the  standard 
of  the  king.  As  Sweetlove  had  said,  it  was  in  the  centre 
of  the  force,  and  before  it,  marching  with  a  compact- 
ness and  speed  superior  to  all  the  rest,  was  a  regiment 
of  red-coated  soldiers,  the  pick  of  the  army,  Lord  Lind- 
sey's  Royal  Guards.  The  chief  interest  of  both  forces 
clung  to  the  standard.  Wherever  it  might  be  there 
would  come  the  hardest  fighting.  The  Parliament  men 
watched  it  descending  the  hill,  and  saw  "it  planted  on  the 
plain  near  the  foot  of  the  heights,  while  the  king  and  his 
staff  rode  forward  hither  and  thither  among  the  steadily 
advancing  lines  of  men.  About  two  hours  after  noon, 
when  the  army  had  completed  its  formation  in  line  of 
battle,  the  standard  was  taken  up  and  carried  forward 
to  the  centre,  just  behind  the  Royal  Guards,  and  exactly 
opposite  Lord  Essex's  own  regiment.  A  brave  show 
they  made,  those  red-coated  men,  and  Ralph  wondered 
sadly  where  Lord  Charlton  stood,  and  sighed  at  the  hard 
fate  which  seemed  bent  upon  casting  them  at  one 
another's  throats. 

And  now  the  hearts  of  men  began  to  beat,  the  eyes 
of  the  fighters  glistened,  and  the  cheeks  of  the  cowards 
blanched.  At  any  moment  the  battle  might  begin.  On 
either  side  officers  rode  up  and  down  the  ranks  exhort- 
ing their  men  to  do  their  duty.  King  Charles,  dressed 
completely  in  armour,  with  a  cloak  of  black  velvet,  his 
head  covered  by  a  plain  steel  cap,  rode  down  his  lines 
in  person,  and  the  cry,  "God  save  the  king!"  which 
greeted  him  was  heard  for  many  miles.  On  the  Par- 
liament side  the  ministers  prayed  aloud  to  God,  the  men 
standing  with  bare  heads,  and  answering  with  a  long, 
fierce  "  Amen." 

Cromwell  addressed  his  troop  himself.  His  face  was 
all  aglow,  not  a  trace  of  anxiety  or  bitterness  left  upon  it. 

"  Be  firm,  my  lads,  and  list  always  to  the  word  of 
command.     Each  think  of  his  comrades,  and  fight  not 

175 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

for  himself.  Our  cause  is  God's.  Be  worthy  of  His 
blessing,  and  flinch  not.     Above  all,  hold  ye  together." 

A  cloud  of  smoke  from  the  right  and  a  dull  roar.  A 
gun  had  been  fired  from  the  Parliamentary  centre, 
another  and  another,  replied  to  by  the  Royalist  artillery. 
The  battle  had  begun.  Now  a  movement  on  the  enemy's 
left.  The  cuirassiers  were  advancing  to  the  charge 
against  Meldrum's  and  Fielding's  horse  and  their  mus- 
keteers behind  the  hedge.  Both  armies  watched  the 
encounter  with  bated  breath.  On  they  came,  the  gallant 
cavaliers,  yet  Meldrum  and  Fielding  do  not  stir  to  meet 
them,  though  their  horses  paw  the  ground  and  the  troop- 
ers draw  their  swords.  Puff!  the  match-locks  from 
behind  the  hedge  belch  fire  and  smoke,  and  right  athwart 
the  ranks  of  charging  men  strike  the  heavy  bullets.  The 
men  fall  in  all  directions,  their  horses  stampede  against 
their  companions,  troop  after  troop  is  thrown  into  con- 
fusion. And  now  into  them  pell-mell  the  Parliamentary 
troopers  charge.  The  struggle  is  fierce  and  furious,  and 
for  a  time  doubtful.  Behind  the  Royalist  cuirassiers  are 
pikemen,  and  on  their  right  flank  a  regiment  of  musket- 
eers, who  return  the  fire  of  those  behind  the  hedge.  But 
the  odds  are  against  the  king.  The  Parliament  men  gain 
ground.  Their  enemies  give  way  —  a  few  yards  first, 
then  many;  and  then  the  pikes  and  musketeers  have  as 
much  as  they  can  do  to  cover  their  retreat.  Yet  so  man- 
fully do  they  fight,  that  there  is  no  rout,  only  a  slowly- 
retreating,  fiercely-struggling  band  re-forming  behind  a 
second  line  of  infantry.  The  onslaught  of  the  Parlia- 
mentarians is  checked,  and  swinging  round  they  retire 
to  their  former  post,  cheering  and  shouting  in  the  first 
flush  of  victory.  But  their  comrades  in  the  centre 
hardly  shared  their  complacency.  The  thoughts  in  their 
minds  were  expressed  by  Ralph  to  Sweetlove. 

"  Good  heavens!  what  be  we  doing?  Another  charge 
well  home,  with  a  fresh  regiment  to  add  the  weight,  and 
that  left  wing  of  theirs  would  go.     A  shame,  a  burning 

176 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

shame,  I  say,  to  miss  so  fair  an  opportunity.  Their 
colonels  should  be  shot." 

"  What  were  my  words?  "  Sweetlove  growled.  "  'Tis 
not  in  us  yet.  I  tell  ye,  we  tire  of  the  swing  of  sword 
in  half  an  hour.  Stay,  now,  what  have  we  here  to  our 
left?  God  Almighty!  Here  be  their  right  wing  at  last. 
See  them  advancing  from  behind  the  knoll.  Ha!  a  fine 
deployment  and  now  for  the  charge.  Eh,  but  they  are 
rare  gallants!  Sure,  they  must  be  the  bloods  I've  heard 
of  under  Rupert  of  Bohemia.  Would  to  God  they 
fronted  us!  Ramsay's  horse  will  never  stand  such  an 
encounter." 

He  paused  with  parted  lips,  and  with  every  man  in 
the  Parliamentary  centre  held  his  breath. 

Cuirassiers  these.  Mounted  on  the  best  of  blooded 
horses,  magnificently  armed,  expert  swordsmen,  and 
perfect  riders  —  the  proudest  gentlemen  of  Europe  and 
the  bravest,  confident  even  to  contempt,  laughing  as  they 
charged.  Down  they  swept  like  a  whirlwind  upon  the 
massed  regiments  of  horse  and  foot.  A  few  feeble  shouts 
answered  their  fierce  battle-cry,  and  then! 

"We  break  —  we  run!"  yelled  Sweetlove.  "Not  a 
struggle  made  or  stand  attempted.  God  curse  the  cow- 
ardly curs!  Our  horse  are  flying  right  and  left,  the  foot 
cut  down  like  grass.  A  sight  to  make  ye  sick.  What 
orders  now  for  us?" 

Steady,  rigid,  expectant  stand  the  Parliamentary  centre 
—  two  regiments  of  horse,  two  regiments  of  foot.  Upon 
them  depends  the  issue  of  the  battle,  and  they  know  it 
well.  On  their  right  Meldrum's,  Fielding's,  and  Bal- 
four's horse  are  gathering  into  new  battle  line,  flushed 
with  victory,  but  a  little  weary.  On  the  left  the  routed 
horse  and  terrified  foot,  crushed  out  of  all  shape,  are 
flying  into  Kineton,  two  miles  to  the  rear,  crying  that 
the  battle  is  lost,  Rupert's  troopers  hot  upon  their  heels. 
In  this  juncture,  by  all  military  rules  and  precedents,  the 
regiments  which  formed  the  Parliamentary  centre,  or 

12  177 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

at  least  the  reserves,  should  have  faced  about  to  meet  a 
flank  attack  from  Rupert.  At  most  they  should  have 
held  close  to  their  position  and  received  there  the  attack 
now  pending  from  Lindsey's  Guards.  But  they  did 
neither.  Lord  Essex,  it  may  be,  intended  this;  but  the 
excitement  of  the  troops,  officers  and  men,  forbade  it. 
The  long  inaction,  the  sight  of  one  wing  failing  to  fol- 
low up  an  advantage,  and  the  other  rolled  up  without  a 
blow,  had  acted  like  strong  wine.  "  Forward  upon 
them!"  was  the  universal  cry,  followed  by  a  shout  of 
enthusiasm  loud,  deep,  and  earnest,  as  the  leaders,  after 
an  instant's  hesitation  on  the  part  of  the  commander-in- 
chief,  galloped  to  the  head  of  their  regiments  and  gave 
the  word  "  Advance!  " 

No  more  talking  now;  every  man  fell  into  his  place 
and  put  his  horse  to  a  gentle  trot.  They  rode  in  loose 
order;  horses  too  unbroken,  riders  too  clumsy  to  attempt 
the  close  formation  of  well-trained  cavalry.  In  Crom- 
well's troop  alone,  thanks  to  Ralph's  experience  and 
Sweetlove's  determination,  the  men  rode  in  rank,  eye 
to  eye,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  their  captain,  glancing 
back  at  them,  felt  a  glow  of  pride.  Forward  for  half  a 
mile,  steadily,  steadily.  Then  the  pace  began  to  quicken, 
and  the  officers  drew  their  swords.  They  could  see  the 
enemy  clearly.  On  their  left  were  infantry  in  six  lines, 
under  Sir  Jacob  Astley;  on  the  right  the  beaten  cuiras- 
siers of  Wilmot;  in  front  the  Royal  Guards,  and  behind 
it  the  standard  and  the  king  himself. 

"Forward,  Lord  Essex's  own!"  the  cry  rang  out. 
"  Make  ready  to  charge!  " 

The  moment  was  coming,  and  men  settled  in  their 
saddles  and  tightened  rein.  The  captains  spoke  their 
last  words. 

"  Hold  in  to  an  hundred  paces  of  them,"  Cromwell 
said,  his  face  quiet  and  still,  though  dark  as  night;  "  then, 
as  I  raise  my  sword,  in  at  the  gallop  and  upon  them 
heartily.    God's  with  us!  " 

178 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

A  few  breathless  minutes,  then  the  captain  waved  his 
sword  above  his  head,  and  his  horse  sprang  to  the  gal- 
lop.    "Charge!" 

The  spurs  went  home  and  the  troop  followed,  guns 
flashing  in  their  faces,  comrades  thundering  in  their  rear. 
Stubbornly  the  redcoats  met  them  with  clubbed  musket 
and  raised  pike,  but  they  could  not  stay  their  course. 
Not  in  vain  had  Ralph  and  Sweetlove  toiled  to  discipline 
the  men  and  train  their  horses.  These  chargers  were 
unwieldy  brutes,  far  slower  than  Rupert's;  but  now, 
maddened  by  the  spurring  and  the  firing,  they  plunged 
forward  furiously  with  distended  eyeballs  and  bleeding 
flanks,  and  trod  down  the  Royalist  infantry  as  a  hailstorm 
beats  down  corn.  The  guards  met  the  shock  valiantly, 
but  the  line  of  horsemen  never  wavered,  trampling  out 
of  shape  rank  after  rank  —  tireless,  relentless,  approach- 
ing nearer  and  ever  nearer  the  standard  in  the  rear. 

Ralph  had  fought  in  many  a  battle  already,  and  many 
more  bloody  than  this  was  he  to  see  in  later  times,  but 
none  made  so  deep  an  impression  upon  him  as  that  under 
Edge  Hill  Heights.  His  interest  was  chiefly  personal. 
His  troop  must  be  first  on  the  foe  and  the  last  to  leave, 
and  Cromwell  at  all  costs  must  be  protected.  So,  though 
the  captain  led  the  charge,  Ralph  was  at  his  side  from 
the  beginning,  and  they  rode  almost  neck  and  neck.  He 
thought  they  rode  alone,  but  presently  he  found  Capell 
at  his  elbow.  The  heavy  face  was  clenched  and  inflexible 
in  its  passion,  the  sword-arm  raised  for  the  stroke.  He 
was  no  laggard,  then,  this  captain  of  train-bands!  And 
now  of  a  sudden  the  horse  from  the  right  wing,  Bal- 
four's and  Fielding's,  swept  down  again  with  a  heavy 
flank  attack  upon  the  Royalist  left,  doing  what  they 
should  have  done  two  hours  before.  The  Cavaliers  gave 
way  and  fell  back  in  confusion,  and  Balfour's  horse, 
wheeling  sharply,  pressed  hard  upon  the  rear  of  the 
Royal  Guards.  This  shook  even  their  firmness,  and 
then  Essex's  own,  headed  by  Cromwell's  troop,  cut  their 

179 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

lines  in  two.  Cromwell  rose  in  his  stirrups  and  pointed 
with  his  sword  to  the  left. 

"  At  last,  men;  see  the  standard!  Charge  for  it.  Are 
ye  ready?     Now!" 

He  dug  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  Hanks,  and  with 
Ralph  and  Capell  on  either  side  and  the  troop  thunder- 
ing after  him,  bore  down  upon  the  little  knot  of  officers 
where  the  standard  flew.  The  stag  was  at  bay,  and  a 
gallant  body  of  gentlemen  had  gathered  round  the  flag. 
Cromwell's  troop  was  a  little  ragged  now,  for  many  of 
the  men  were  wounded  and  the  horses  were  tiring,  but 
their  blood  was  up,  and  they  were  supported  by  the  best 
mounted  of  the  other  regiments.  Ralph  found  himself 
fighting  between  Capell  and  Sir  John  Salingford.  He 
could  fight,  this  man.  He  wielded  his  heavy  sword  like 
a  feather,  and  once  saved  Ralph's  life  by  cutting  down 
a  pikeman  who  had  thrust  at  him.  As  for  Capell,  he 
seemed  made  of  iron.  His  blows  came  slowly,  but  he 
never  missed  his  mark,  and  when  they  closed  in  the 
death-struggle  round  the  standard  he  ranged  to  the  left 
of  Cromwell,  Ralph  to  his  right,  and  together  they  kept 
watch  upon  their  captain's  safety. 

The  end  was  very  near.  For  a  few  minutes  the  caval- 
iers held  their  assailants  at  bay  by  superior  sword-play, 
but  they  were  struck  down  one  by  one.  Then  a  tall 
man  in  full  armour  sprang  like  a  tiger  at  Cromwell,  who 
was  engaged  with  another;  Ralph  parried  the  blow,  and 
struck  him  on  the  side  of  the  head.  He  reeled ;  his  hel- 
met fell  ofif,  and  Ralph  saw  that  it  was  Charlton.  The 
next  instant  Salingford  thrust  at  his  armpit,  but  Ralph 
threw  his  shoulder  against  him,  and  the  attempt  failed. 
Charlton  saw  this,  and  turned  aside  a  blow  he  had  aimed 
at  Ralph.  Then  they  looked  into  one  another's  eyes,  and 
the  fury  of  battle  died  away.  There  was  a  dash  from 
the  men  behind,  and  they  were  crushed  close  together. 

"Take  quarter,"  Ralph  cried,  "for  God's  sake!" 

I  So 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Nay,"  was  the  hoarse  reply,  "  if  we  are  beaten  life  is 
not  worth  the  hving,  but  I  fight  not  with  you." 

He  parried  a  blow  from  Capell,  and  then,  as  the  crush 
lessened,  turned  about  to  defend  Sir  Edmund  Verney,  the 
standard-bearer,  who  was  vainly  struggling  in  the  grip 
of  Reuben  Sweetlove.  Ralph  pressed  after  him.  For 
the  moment  even  Cromwell  was  forgotten.  His  design 
was  perceived  by  Sir  John  Salingford. 

"What,"  he  snarled,  "  wouldst  foil  me  and  save  him? 
By  God  then,  I'll  kill  thee  both!  "  and  rising  in  his  stir- 
rups, he  brought  his  heavy  broadsword  down  upon 
Ralph's  head.  But  as  it  descended  a  blade  was  thrust 
between,  and  Salingford's  weapon  splintered  at  the  hilt. 
The  next  instant  a  hand  gripped  him  by  the  neck. 

"  Verily,  most  honourable  knight,"  a  voice  growled  in 
his  ear,  the  voice  of  Sanctify  Jordan,  "  that  was  a  fool's 
act,  an'  deserves  my  knife  beneath  thy  ribs.  Yet  I'll  spare 
thee.  But  get  to  the  rear.  At  my  back  be  men  who'd 
take  thy  blood  drop  by  drop  didst  thou  but  graze  the 
cornet's  skin." 

While  the  words  were  spoken  the  grip  tightened  upon 
Salingford's  neck  and  he  was  thrust  aside  with  such  force 
as  nearly  to  dismount  him.  His  brain  was  swimming, 
and  he  felt  deathly  sick.  When  he  recovered  he  found 
himself  far  from  the  front,  and  a  long,  exulting  cheer  told 
him  that  the  standard  had  been  taken.  The  redcoats  had 
been  cut  down  almost  to  a  man.  From  every  side  the 
Parliamentary  troopers  were  spurring  up,  and  in  the 
centre  of  a  wildly-excited  group  stood  old  Reuben,  in 
his  grasp  the  standard  and  his  face  streaming  with 
blood,  but  quiet  and  composed,  the  only  man  among 
them  all  who  kept  his  presence  of  mind.  He  was  coolly 
scanning  the  enemy's  lines  to  the  southward. 

"  Captain,"  he  said  to  Cromwell,  "  what's  to  do  now, 
think  ye?    The  battle  be  not  over  yet." 

Cromwell  shook  his  head. 

"A  horse  for  the  quartermaster!"  he  cried  sharply  to 
i8i 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  men.  "  Nay,  indeed  it's  not,  old  friend.  We  should 
deal  with  those  pikes  that  are  forming  there  with  what 
speed  we  may.  I  have  spoken  to  the  colonel.  I  trust 
he  will  charge  them." 

It  was  the  turning-point  of  the  day.  The  Royalist  left 
wing  was  completely  broken,  of  the  centre  only  five 
regiments  of  pikemen  remained,  while  the  Parliament 
horse  was  flushed  with  victory.  They  rapidly  re-formed 
to  the  attack,  and  prepared  to  charge.  Suddenly  a  trum- 
pet sounded  from  the  rear,  and  by  the  last  gleam  of  the 
dying  day,  they  saw  Rupert's  cuirassiers  emerging  from 
Kineton.  They  rode  back  to  meet  them.  But  the  light 
vanished,  the  gloom  of  the  autumn  evening  fell  upon  the 
plain,  and  Rupert,  wheeling  to  the  left,  rejoined  his  army 
without  striking  a  further  blow. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  battle  was  over,  and  the  last  murmur  of  strife 
died  away  as  the  gloaming  faded  into  darkness. 
Then  the  plain  from  Kineton  to  the  heights  became  a 
mass  of  wandering  lights  as  lanterns  and  torches  were  lit 
for  the  search  for  wounded  comrades.  Before  midnight 
every  cottage,  farm  and  inn  for  miles  round  was  full  of 
wounded  soldiers  or  hungry  officers,  and  the  inhabitants 
had  to  retire  into  garrets  and  barns  to  make  room  for 
their  self-invited  guests. 

In  a  small  farm-house,  just  outside  Kineton,  an  officer 
sat  before  a  roaring  fire.  He  had  taken  off  his  boots, 
unbuttoned  his  doublet,  and  was  smoking  a  long  clay 
pipe,  leaning  back  in  a  huge  elbow-chair,  with  his  feet 
tilted  at  a  comfortable  angle  on  a  stool. 

It  was  Sir  John  Salingford.  At  a  table  near  him  Capell 
was  making  swift  play  with  knife  and  fork,  dividing  his 
attention  between  a  plate  of  cold  beef  and  a  tankard  of 
ale.  He  was  booted  and  spurred;  his  hat  and  gloves  were 
on  the  table,  his  cloak  thrown  back  over  his  shoulder  to 
give  free  play  to  his  arms. 

"A  truly  cursed  business,"  Salingford  remarked  in 
a  grumbling  tone.  "  Would  the  rogue  were  one  of  my 
troop!  I'd  have  him  hanged  and  his  pretty  cornet  court- 
martialled." 

"  That  will  be  more  than  you  can  compass,  Sir  John, 
as  the  affair  stands,"  Capell  observed  with  his  mouth  full. 
"  Better  leave  this  Dangerfield  alone." 

"  An'  I  do  may  I  be  d d,"  was  the  answer.    "  Pish! 

d'ye  think  I  can  stomach  his  insolence?  A  psalm-singer 
like  thou  might,  but  not  a  gentleman.    An'  his  captain 

183 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

had  not  spoken  to  my  uncle  Essex,  who  put  me  under 
strict  promise  to  keep  my  sword  quietly  until  this  battle, 
I'd  have  trussed  the  cockerel  ere  now,  be  sure  of  that. 
Now  I  am  free  to  strike,  and  it  shall  be  at  both  of  them." 

Capell  rose  from  the  table  and  warmed  his  hands  at 
the  fire.  "  In  duels,  I've  heard,  it  be  not  always  the  best 
man  wins;  he  may  pink  thee." 

"  Leave  that  to  my  experience.  Were  it  Charlton 
indeed!  But  there  be  another  way  to  deal  with  that 
devil."  He  said  the  words  spitefully,  scowling  at  the 
wall.  Capell  watched  him  a  moment,  and  then  drew 
his  cloak  round  his  shoulder. 

"Art  going?  "  said  Salingford,  who  seldom  appreciated 
solitude. 

"  If  my  captain  found  me  here  when  he  supposed  me 
to  be  seeing  to  my  men's  quarters  it  would  be  my  last 
day  in  Cromwell's  troop." 

*'  'Slife,  man,  what  odds?  Cursed  if  I  can  tell  what 
men  see  in  that  sour-faced  country-man  to  look  at  him 
so!  Were  Essex  himself  to  walk  in  at  this  moment  he'd 
not  move  me." 

"  The  lord-general,"  Capell  rejoined  drily,  "  is  not 
my  uncle.     I  must  go." 

Yet  he  warmed  his  hands  again. 

"  There  seems  a  great  affection  between  this  Danger- 
field  and  my  Lord  Charlton,"  he  murmured. 

Salingford  swore  loudly.  "  I  have  cause  to  know  it. 
Not  that  I  ever  took  much  note  of  your  cornet,  he  was  a 
mere  boy  at  college;  but  Charlton  I  knew,  curse  him,  a 
tearing,  gambling,  fighting  roysterer  —  and  more;  one 
who  grudged  others  what  he'd  pluck  by  handfuls  for 
himself.  We'd  a  pretty  quarrel.  'Slife,  the  man  worsted 
me,  I'll  own  as  much  to  you,  and  now  he'll  rue  it. 
Wounded,  you  said,  and  at  Dangerfield's  quarters,  where- 
fore a  prisoner.  Good,  very  good!  I'll  so  work  upon 
mine  uncle  in  the  matter  of  my  lord's  black  malignancy 
that  he'll  not  release  him  at  any  ransom,  but  let  me  send 

184 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

him  where  I  will ;  and  once  on  his  way  to  prison,  guarded 
by  my  bully-boys " 

He  stopped  to  puff  at  his  pipe,  and  finished  his  sen- 
tence with  a  malicious  chuckle.  Capell  went  on  warm- 
ing his  hands. 

"What  was  the  cause  of  the  attachment  between 
them?" 

"  Satan,  their  best  friend,  only  knoweth,  I  do  not. 
They  were  never  apart  at  college;  dicing,  racing,  drink- 
ing, in  company  always.  Dost  love  this  cornet,  that  his 
name  be  on  your  lips  so  frequently?  " 

The  question  was  asked  with  a  sharp  turn  of  the  head. 
Capell  raised  his  eyes,  and  the  men  looked  at  one  another. 

"  I  have  known  him  no  longer  than  a  week.  I  have  no 
cause  either  to  love  or  hate.  But  " —  he  paused  — "  I'll 
be  frank.  One  that  hath  been  a  friend  to  me  distrusts 
him,  and  has  set  me  to  take  note  of  his  behaviour." 

Salingford  looked  at  him  a  moment  keenly,  then  burst 
into  a  mocking  laugh. 

"  Say  no  more,  most  godly  brother;  I'll  leave  that 
younker  in  thy  hands.  That  is  what  thou  desirest,  is  it 
not?  I  thought  it  from  thy  anxiety  about  the  duel. 
Charlton  is  mine  own;  but  the  other  you  may  deal  with 
as  you  list.  An'  devil  take  me  if  I  do  not  pity  him! 
Give  me  for  deadliest  poison  the  hatred  of  a  truly  pious 
man." 

"Psha!"  Capell  rejoined  impatiently,  opening  the 
door;  "an'  I  did  hate  him  my  way  would  be  clear  eno'; 
but  I  do  not,  so  the  way  is  dark,  dark  as  night." 

He  strode  out  and  walked  quickly  away  toward  the 
inn  where  Ralph  Sweetlove,  and  the  corporal  had  found 
quarters  for  the  night,  and  in  his  ears,  like  an  evil  echo, 
rang  Salingford's  mocking  laugh, 

Capell  was  very  weary,  and  the  frosty  air,  for  the  night 
"was  very  cold,  cut  him  to  the  bone.  A  nervous  reaction 
after  the  battle  was  upon  him,  and  he  felt  deeply 
depressed.     He  had  never  been  a  cheerful  person.     His 

1 8s 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

life  had  been  a  hard  one.  Even  his  childhood  had  been 
loveless  and  joyless.  Like  Ralph,  Capell  had  lost  his 
mother  in  babyhood,  but,  unlike  Ralph,  the  father  who 
brought  him  up  was  a  hard  and  unsympathetic  man. 
He  meant  to  do  his  duty  by  the  boy.  He  succeeded  only 
in  making  him,  in  tender  years,  very  miserable,  latterly 
callous  and  bitter.  Of  Capell's  later  history  we  know  the 
outline.  Poverty  had  never  been  absent,  and  his  friend- 
ships were  but  skin-deep.  He  was  born  and  bred  a  Pres- 
byterian, but  his  religion  had  been  merely  a  ladder  by 
which  to  climb  into  the  favour  of  the  elders  of  his  father's 
church.  He  had  succeeded,  and  when  he  came  to  Lon- 
don joined  Isaac  Hepworth's  congregation  from  the  same 
motive.  Then  came  a  change.  In  Hepworth,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,  Capell  found  a  man  whom  he  could 
respect,  and  ultimately  whom  he  grew  to  love,  so  far 
as  it  was  in  his  nature  to  love  any  man.  The  minister's 
warmth  and  straightforwardness,  his  fiery  earnestness 
and  energy,  and  most  of  all  his  childlike  faith  in  Capell's 
sincerity,  pierced  through  the  hard  crust  of  the  man's 
worldliness  and  reached  his  heart.  The  first  result  of 
this  was  that  Capell's  hitherto  implacable  distrust  and 
hatred  of  ministers  as  a  class  died  a  natural  death;  next, 
his  religious  professions  ceased  to  be  a  mere  form  and 
pretence;  lastly,  he  began  to  have  a  real  desire  to  live 
for  something  besides  himself.  This  made  him  resolve 
to  take  active  part  in  the  struggle  against  the  Crown. 
He  was  not  naturally  a  soldier,  but  he  had  plenty  of  cool, 
steady  courage,  and  a  determined  will.  He  trained  him- 
self thoroughly  in  military  science,  as  he  did  in  all  things, 
and  one  day  met  Cromwell  at  Hepworth's  house.  Capell 
took  a  fancy  to  Cromwell,  and  not  long  afterwards  asked 
for  a  lieutenancy  in  his  troop.  This  again  was  indirectly 
due  to  Hepworth.  The  good  man,  who  held  no  secrets 
from  Capell,  talked  about  his  niece  so  much  and  so 
warmly  that  at  length  Capell  was  fired  by  a  desire  to  see 
and  know  this  maiden.     He  was  thirty  years  old,  an  age 

i86 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

when  life  alone  is  doubly  lonely.  Why  should  he  not 
marry?  he  thought,  and  if  he  did  marry  —  well,  he  would 
like  to  see  this  girl,  the  dearest  person  on  earth  to  Isaac 
Hepworth.  So,  with  characteristic  disregard  of  all  obsta- 
cles when  he  had  once  resolved  upon  a  thing,  Capell 
threw  up  his  captaincy  in  the  train-bands  —  an  easy  and 
lucrative  position  —  and  prepared  to  journey  down  to 
Ely.  Before  he  went  he  had  a  long  interview  with  Hep- 
worth,  who  poured  out  his  anxieties  and  suspicions  about 
Ralph,  and  begged  Capell,  as  a  proof  of  friendship,  to  let 
nothing  escape  him  concerning  the  youth's  behaviour 
to  Rachel  and  her  attitude  towards  him.  The  minister, 
after  receiving  the  news  that  Rachel  had  refused  to  be 
betrothed  to  Oliver,  had  concluded  at  once  that  partiality 
towards  Ralph  was  at  the  bottom  of  it,  and  said  so  to 
Capell. 

As  soon  as  the  lieutenant  came  to  know  Rachel  he 
fell  in  love  with  her.  Her  quiet  nature  suited  his  own 
precisely.  A  lively  young  person  like  Betty  bewildered 
and  irritated  him;  Bridget's  eager  questionings  and  little 
airs  and  graces  bored  him;  but  Rachel's  quiet  grace  and 
gentleness  soothed  his  soul,  and  her  cordiality,  when  she 
found  out  his  regard  for  her  uncle,  filled  him  with  a  hope 
that  if  by  some  means  she  could  be  withdrawn  from  her 
present  environment  he  might  have  a  chance  of  pressing 
his  suit  with  success.  All  this  intensified  the  want  of 
sympathy  between  his  nature  and  Ralph's,  and  fostered 
an  antagonism  which  deepened  gradually  into  bitter 
enmity. 

Yet  Capell  was  quite  honest  in  his  protest  against  Sir 
John  Salingford's  accusation.  He  was  persuaded  that  it 
was  a  Christian  duty  to  spare  no  pains  to  remove  the 
danger  to  Rachel's  peace  —  nay,  to  her  immortal  soul  — 
which  was  so  gravely  threatened  by  the  continued  pres- 
ence of  this  Socinian  in  Cromwell's  troop.  He  would 
use  honest  means  first  of  all  to  remove  him,  but,  come 
what  would,  it  should  be  done. 

187 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Among  the  many  hundreds  of  wounded  men  on  the 
field  of  battle  that  day,  few  had  a  narrower  escape  of 
death  than  Lord  Charlton.  He  had  been  struck  on  the 
head,  dangerously  near  the  temple,  and  when  Ralph,  who 
never  left  him,  was  able  to  convey  him  from  the  press  of 
dead  and  dying  men,  he  found  him  insensible  and  bleed- 
ing profusely.  Fortunately  the  first  man  he  appealed  to 
to  help  was  Sweetlove,  and  the  old  quartermaster,  who 
could  refuse  Ralph  nothing,  not  only  assisted  him  to 
place  the  Viscount  in  a  rude  litter,  but  found  men  to 
convey  it,  sending  a  trooper  in  ahead  to  Kineton,  and 
by  this  forethought  obtained  decent  lodgings  there  before 
the  place  was  crowded  to  suffocation.  Reuben,  also, 
from  his  experience  of  wounds,  was  able  to  apply  the 
right  remedies  without  waiting  for  the  overworked  chi- 
rurgeon,  and  by  the  time  Capell  entered  the  inn,  and  was 
admitted  to  the  sick  room,  the  worst  danger  was  past, 
and  Charlton  was  asleep. 

"Your  friend  will  live,  then?"  Capell  whispered  to 
Ralph,  eyeing  with  grim  disapproval  the  signs  of  comfort 
and  care  which  surrounded  the  wounded  man. 

"  Aye,"  returned  Ralph,  glancing  gratefully  at  the 
quartermaster,  who  was  tearing  up  bandages  for  further 
use;  '"tendance  and  quiet  will  do  the  rest,  thanks  to  this 
skilful  chirurgeon  of  mine." 

"Tuts!"  broke  in  Sweetlove  roughly,  "a  mere  trifle. 
I'd  see  no  man  bleed  to  death  like  a  pig.  The  lieutenant, 
though,  would  say  'twere  better  if  I  had." 

He  stared  at  Capell  with  searching  eyes,  but  the  lieu- 
tenant shook  his  head. 

"  A  life  is  a  life,"  he  said,  "  whether  friend  or  foe.  He 
is  delivered  into  our  hands,  and  should  be  dealt  by  hon- 
estly.    Hast  seen  the  captain  yet,  Dangerfield?" 

"  I  am  going  to  him  nov/." 

"Then  let  us  walk  together." 

They  left  the  house,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  alone 
Capell  said  solemnly  — 

i88 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  You  have  done  well  by  the  cause  to  capture  this 
malignant." 

"  I  could  wish  he  were  free,"  Ralph  answered,  sighing. 
"  Capell,  this  war  is  an  accursed  thing." 

"  Those  be  strange  words,  Sir  Cornet,"  was  the  frigid 
rejoinder.     "Accursed?     How  mean  you?" 

"  This  prisoner  be  my  dearest  friend.  'Deed,  I  would 
give  my  life  for  his.  Yet  through  this  war  he  may  rot 
in  prison,  if  he  be  not  exchanged.  And  if  that  sot  Saling- 
ford  discover  him,  as  I  fear  he  must,  he  will  die." 

"  He  hath  discovered  him,"  Capell  said  shortly.  "  I 
saw  him  not  half  an  hour  ago." 

Ralph  groaned.    "What  did  he  say?" 

Capell  cleared  his  throat  significantly.  "  He  spat  into 
the  fire.     Nay,  you  are  right:  my  lord  is  doomed." 

Ralph  gave  a  short  laugh.  "  Not  so  fast.  He  be  my 
prisoner,  not  Sir  John's." 

"  That  will  profit  you  naught.  He  has  the  ear  of  the 
Lord-General." 

"So  have  I." 

"  How?  " 

"  As  an  officer  in  his  army." 

"H'm!  Well,  if  you  think  that  will  weigh  against  his 
blood  relation,  and  a  captain  and  a  knight  to  boot,  I 
have  nothing  more  to  say  to  you.  Here  are  the  cap- 
tain's quarters." 

They  entered  a  small  cottage,  smoky  and  dark.  Crom- 
well was  sitting  on  a  rude  milking-stool  munching  a 
piece  of  dry  bread.  A  jug  of  sour  milk  stood  on  the 
floor.  He  greeted  the  young  men  cordially,  and  then 
asked  questions  concerning  the  disposition  and  accom- 
modation of  the  men. 

"  We  fall  back  to  Warwick,"  he  said,  when  Capell  had 
answered,  "unless  the  king  offer  battle." 

"  But  this  will  give  the  enemy  a  clear  course  to  Lon- 
don," Ralph  said  indignantly. 

"  That  was  put  forward  for  the  Lord-General's  con- 

1S9 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

sideration,"  Cromwell  answered.  "  I  could  wish  with 
you,  our  steps  were  forwards,  not  backwards.  But  we 
are  subordinates,  friend.  We  must  abide  by  the  judg- 
ment of  our  superiors,  and  murmur  not." 

He  spoke  with  some  emphasis,  and  nothing  more  was 
said.  Shortly  afterwards  Ralph  excused  himself,  and 
the  captain  and  his  lieutenant  were  left  alone  together. 

Cromwell  threw  a  log  of  wood  upon  the  fire  and 
pointed  to  another  stool.  "  Draw  nearer  to  the  heat. 
An'  thou  canst  keep  awake  I  have  a  matter  of  some 
confidence  to  discuss  with  you.     Is  the  door  closed?" 

Capell  examined  it,  and  then  sat  down  to  listen,  the 
firelight  playing  about  his  burly  figure  and  hard,  quiet 
face. 

"  Know  you  this  prisoner  of  our  cornet's  —  the  Vis- 
count Charlton?" 

Capell  leisurely  crossed  his  feet.  "  By  reputation,  sir, 
not  otherwise." 

"And  that?" 

"Bad,  captain." 

"Be  precise,  an't  please  you,"  Cromwell  rejoined 
curtly,  after  waiting  a  minute  for  Capell  to  continue. 
"What  is  wrong  with  him  besides  his  politics?" 

"  He  is  a  gamester,  a  shameless  libertine,  a  rake-hell 
Cavalier." 

"  Enough,  I  know  the  breed.  Where  did  they  who 
told  you  this  obtain  their  knowledge?" 

"  At  Cambridge,  I  understand.  The  Viscount  was  a 
student  there." 

"  In  what  year?  " 

"  I  know  not  the  date  —  more  than  twelve  months 
since." 

"Was  Dangerfield  his  fellow-student?" 

"  I  have  learnt  that  they  were  boon  companions,  both 
by  day  and  night." 

Capell  spoke  in  quiet,  even  tones,  but  with  a  peculiar 
distinctness  that  his  listener  noted.     Cromwell  bent  for- 

190 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

ward  slightly,  and  pushed  the  log  with  his  foot.  "  I  read 
reproach  in  thine  eyes,  friend,"  he  said  in  a  low  musing 
tone.  "  You  think  I  am  rash  to  harbour  such  an  one 
in  my  house.     Believe  me,  I  knew  not  this  before." 

Capell  looked  up  in  genuine  surprise.  "  'Deed,  sir, 
my  mind  ne'er  nourished  such  a  thought.  And,  mayhap, 
my  informant  was  mistaken." 

"You  do  not  think  so,"  Cromwell  said.  There  was 
no  answer.     Cromwell  sighed. 

"  You  have  a  wide  experience,  Capell,  and  some  wis- 
dom of  the  world.  I  believe  you  are  very  sure  upon 
this  point.  What  advice  have  you  to  give  me  for  the 
future?  Nay,  I  mean  my  words.  They  are  no  mockery. 
See,  then,  I  will  bare  my  heart  to  you.  This  youth  is 
beloved  by  my  household.  I  have  e'en  a  weak  affection 
for  him  myself.  But  that,  God  is  my  witness,  shall  never 
overcome  my  sense  of  justice.  I  have  forgiven  to  a 
point  his  backslidings  in  faith,  because  I  believed  him 
to  live  a  sober  and  a  proper  life.  Am  I  deceived?  Tell 
me!  These  men  have  been  as  bosom  friends  this  two 
years  past.  So  much  I  knew.  You  have  informed  me 
of  the  Viscount's  character.     What  is  to  be  done?  " 

Cromwell  paused,  and  there  was  a  long  silence.  At 
last  Capell  answered  brusquely,  "  I  see  but  one  course, 
sir." 

At  these  words  Cromwell,  who  had  been  gazing  at  the 
fire  with  listless,  weary  eyes,  looked  at  him  sharply. 
"  Tell  me  what  that  should  be." 

"  Enforce  a  test  upon  the  young  man  and  abide  by 
its  results.  Refuse  to  aid  him  to  exchange  this  Vis- 
count. I  know  the  man  to  be  of  lewd  and  vicious  habits. 
Well,  cast  him  into  prison,  and  let  him  there  remain 
until  the  war  be  done.  If  Dangerfield  protest  give  him 
as  the  reason  for  your  action  his  friend's  character  and 
disposition.  Truly,  if  he  be  in  earnest  in  his  reforma- 
tion, which  God  grant  be  so,  then  he  will  submit  to  your 


191 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

word.  If  not  he  deserveth  not  your  countenance,  for  it 
will  prove  his  sympathy  with  a  man  of  bad,  ungodly  life." 

Cromwell  nodded  and  rose.  "  A  wise  scheme.  I 
thank  thee,  man;  thou  hast  pointed  out  a  way  from  the 
difficulty  I  had  not  considered.  Your  words  will  bear 
fruit;  a  test  there  shall  be.  Get  thee  away  now  to  thy 
quarters.  Glance  at  the  men  as  you  pass ;  and  —  aye,  I 
had  forgotten  —  send  me  a  man  to  bear  a  message." 

"  Hast  any  choice,  sir?  " 

"No;  yet  stay.  Send  me  the  tallest  of  the  troopers, 
Sanctify  Jordan;  he  will  serve  my  purpose  best." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LORD  CHARLTON  had  so  far  recovered  the  next 
morning  as  to  eat  a  hearty  breakfast,  and  express 
his  obligations  to  Ralph  and  Reuben  Sweetlove. 

"  Gad,  dear  boy,  thou  returnest  good  for  evil  to  the 
hilt.  After  that  dispute  of  ours  at  Sidney  I'd  made  sure 
the  next  time  we  met  Fd  have  thee  by  the  throat,  and  my 
heart  sank  at  the  thought.  And  thou  art  a  Roundhead 
and  a  rebel!  Nay,  then,  grant  me  a  hearing,  though 
it  be  but  five  minutes.  Your  little  doctor  told  me  how 
you  were  cozened  into  rebellion.  Faith,  Fd  forgive  thee 
for  it,  and  so  would  his  Majesty  —  Fll  swear  he  would  — 
an'  he  knew  the  hard  measure  dealt  in  his  name  to  your 
father.  It  was  blood  for  blood  with  you.  Well,  blood 
you've  had,  'Struth,  I  warrant  you  drew  enough  yes- 
terday before  you  reached  me  to  pay  for  a  score  of  lives. 
Be  content,  Ralph,  and  return  forthwith  to  thy  allegiance. 
Your  captain,  say  you,  is  a  man  to  follow  to  the  death. 
I  won't  dispute  it,  he  hath  a  face  of  iron;  but  we've  a 
score  as  good.  When  I  get  back  again  'twill  be  to  serve 
under  the  prince.  Lord,  how  your  heart  would  spring 
at  sight  of  him.  The  royal  blood  in  him!  The  force 
and  fire  and  energy!  He's  a  rider — I've  only  known 
one  better,  and  that  yourself  —  fearless  as  a  lion,  a  leader 
in  very  truth,  yet  a  brother  to  his  men.  Then  he  lives  for 
his  profession.  He  is  no  drinker,  like  Wilmot;  no 
woman-hunter,  like  Goring;  but  a  true  man  and  a  sol- 
dier. Did  you  set  your  eyes  upon  his  face,  Cromwell's 
would  fade  like  a  ghost.  For  the  rest,  pah!  How  canst 
breathe  among  these  snufifling  crop-ears? — men  of  such 
'religion,'  forsooth,  that  the  cur  Salingford,  one  of  the 
13  193 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

most  infernal  coistrils  and  rakes  that  I  know,  is  captain 
of  a  troop;  and  I'll  swear  that  even  your  Cromwell  stands 
cap  in  hand  before  my  Lord  Essex's  nephew.  Nay,  come 
out  of  it  all,  for  the  Lord's  sake.  Get  on  thy  nag  this 
night,  let  me  hang  to  his  tail,  and  before  morning  trot 
into  a  camp  of  honest  men  and  cast  in  your  lot  with  the 
king."  He  seized  Ralph's  hand,  his  face  aglow  with 
earnest  feeling.  "  Promise  me,"  he  said  in  a  whisper, 
"  for  there  be  steps  outside.     Swear." 

Ralph  pressed  the  strong  fingers.  "  I  swear,"  he  said 
with  a  smile,  "  by  God  Almighty,  old  friend,  that  the  day 
I  break  my  faith  to  Cromwell  you  may  take  me  to  the 
nearest  tree  and  hang  me.     Open!" 

It  was  Sanctify  Jordan.  He  came  stiffly  to  attention, 
and  saluted  with  a  wooden,  expressionless  face,  his  hel- 
met touching  the  ceiling. 

"  By  order  of  the  captain,  sir,  I  be  to  enquire  touching 
the  health  of  your  prisoner.  Commands  have  been  laid 
upon  all  with  prisoners  in  a  condition  of  body  fit  for 
removal  to  convey  them  to  headquarters  by  twelve  of  the 
clock  this  day." 

"  My  Lord  Charlton  is  too  sick  to  be  moved,"  Ralph 
answered  quickly.     "  Bear  that  message  to  the  captain." 

The  trooper  saluted  again  and  withdrew.  He  was 
joined  outside  by  Micklejohn. 

"  Is  he  going?"  he  said  anxiously. 

"  Doubtless." 

"  Then  the  devil  is  looking  after  his  own.  Salingford 
hath  been  prowling  around  headquarters  all  morning 
I've  been  told  by  one  of  his  men  that  he  will  do  my  lord 
the  worst  mischief  he  can  think  upon  once  he  gets  him 
there." 

Sanctify  said  nothing,  but  when  he  caught  the  cor- 
poral's eye  he  winked. 

"  Hearts!  "  exclaimed  the  little  man  with  a  grin.  "  Be 
there  something  afoot,  then?  'Slid!  but  I  feared  you  was 
on  his  side,  since  you  spent  the  night  at  Noll's  quarters. 

194 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Do  my  lord  lie  here,  then?  Drat  it,  comrade,  canst  not 
trust  me?" 

"  I  obey  orders,  Sir  Corporal,"  the  other  answered 
solemnly,  "  and  those  be  strict.  Nevertheless,  I  would 
beg  of  you,  an  your  labours  permit  of  it,  to  keep  within 
hail  of  the  house  that  lieth  behind  us.  Touching  thy 
question,  ask  the  cornet.  Fare  thee  well."  And  he  strode 
away  at  a  pace  the  corporal  could  not  keep  up  with. 

"  r  fackins,  old  maypole,"  grumbled  the  little  man, 
rubbing  his  nose,  "  thy  captain's  favour  maketh  thee 
stomach-proud,  methinks.  Have  a  care,  then;  I  may 
find  means  to  outwit  you  all.  I  care  not  for  the  malig- 
nant lord,  but  if  by  serving  him  I  could  chagrin  Sir  John! 
He  called  me  '  pup ';  he  threatened  me!  Zounds,  but  to 
think  of  it  makes  my  ears  tingle!  Give  me  but  the  oppor- 
tunity, an'  I'll  make  him  wish  he'd  cut  his  ugly  tongue 
out  ere  he  mocked  at  me." 

Meanwhile,  within  the  house,  Ralph  and  Charlton 
were  in  close  consultation. 

"  It  must  be  before  the  rise  of  moon,  I  tell  you,"  Ralph 
was  saying.     "Art  strong  enough  for  the  attempt?" 

"  If  I  choose  to  make  it." 

"Then  will  I  find  the  man." 

"  Nay,  'tis  madness.     Let  me  be." 

"To  await  Salingford's  pleasure?     Not  I." 

"  You  betray  your  captain.  He  will  be  held  respon- 
sible." 

"  Pish !     Trust  me  to  prevent  it." 

"  But  that  would  be  worst  of  all.  This  devil  hates 
you,  too." 

"A  fig  for  him!"  Ralph  rejoined.  "Come,  there  be 
no  other  way  but  this.  If  you  escape  not,  his  malice 
will  end  you.  My  mind  is  made  up.  If  any  come  to 
look  at  you  to-day  appear  to  be  near  dying;  then,  when 
it  is  dark,  put  on  this  cloak  of  mine,  my  armlet  and  hat. 
I  know  a  man  who  will  not  betray  us,  and  will  guide  you 


195 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

beyond  the  lines.  Will  your  head  stand  it?  That's  the 
rub." 

Charlton  laughed. 

"  Pooh!  where  'tis  life  or  death  you  may  depend  upon 
my  head,  drunk  or  sober.  I'll  try  it  now.  Hands  off! 
I  can  walk  alone!  " 

He  swung  himself  out  of  bed,  stood  a  moment  until 
the  first  dizziness  had  passed,  then  quietly  walked  across 
the  room.  At  the  end  he  reeled,  but  still  refusing  aid, 
rested  against  the  wall. 

"  A  space  for  breathing,  then  back  again,"  he  said 
cheerily.  "  Gad,  Ralph,  put  me  on  a  horse,  and  I'd  be 
good  for  a  score  of  miles.     Oh,  a  devil!" 

There  were  steps  outside  the  door,  and  Cromwell 
came  in.     Charlton  fell  on  the  floor  with  a  groan. 

"  Vain  boaster  that  thou  art,"  Ralph  exclaimed,  his 
face  many  times  redder  than  usual,  "  thou  couldst  not 
ride  a  furlong.  Prithee,  captain,  lend  me  of  your 
strength.  My  prisoner,  wishful  to  disprove  my  message 
to  you,  hath  overtasked  himself  and  fainted." 

Cromwell  came  forward  promptly,  and  together  they 
lifted  Charlton  into  bed.  Ralph  was  then  about  to 
administer  stimulants  with  great  show  of  anxiety,  when, 
to  his  disgust,  Charlton  opened  his  eyes  and  stared  at 
Cromwell  with  an  intensity  ill  suited  to  a  fainting  man. 

"  I  come  direct  from  the  Lord-General,"  Cromwell 
said,  with  a  peculiar  dryness  of  manner.  "  His  desire 
to  see  my  Lord  Charlton  is  so  strong  that,  hearing  he 
could  not  move,  the  general  hath  decided  to  visit  him, 
I  expect  him  within  a  minute  or  so.  While  we  converse 
with  his  lordship,  Dangerfield,  go  you  and  find  a  trusty 
man  to  tend  him.  He  must  join  the  rest  to-morrow,  but 
he  can  remain  in  these  quarters  for  four-and-twenty 
hours.     I  shall  require  your  presence  elsewhere." 

Cromwell's  tone  was  peremptory  and  precise,  and 
Lord  Charlton,  serious  as  his  position  had  now  become, 

196 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

was  secretly  amused  at  the  nonplussed  expression  which 
came  over  Ralph's  face.     It  was  gone  in  a  moment. 

"  I  will  seek  a  man  at  once,  sir." 

"Whom  will  you  take?"  questioned  his  captain 
sharply. 

"  Corporal  Micklejohn,  an   you  can  spare  him." 

Cromwell  considered  a  moment. 

"  He  will  do.  Lose  no  time.  I  hear  the  general 
below." 

Lord  Essex  came  slowly  up  the  rickety  stairs,  for  he 
was  a  man  of  weight  and  substance.  He  cast  a  sharp 
glance  at  Ralph,  who  stood  aside  to  let  him  pass. 

"  Your  cornet,  captain?" 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

"A  youth  of  gallant  carriage.  But  I  like  not  his 
dress.  It  lacketh  seriousness  and  simplicity.  He  should 
take  pattern  by  his  lieutenant.  Tell  him  so  from  me. 
Lord  Charlton,  your  servant!  " 

He  bowed  courteously,  and  then,  sitting  down  by  the 
bed,  began  his  examination.  It  lasted  an  hour,  and  by 
the  time  it  was  over  Charlton's  head  was  in  a  whirl. 
Yet  he  was  sufficiently  himself  to  keenly  observe  his  new 
gaoler  when  he  came  in,  and  to  feel  that  Ralph  had  done 
well.  Jem  had  been  a  valet  once,  and  the  old  deference 
to  rank  was  not  dead  in  him  yet. 

"Thou'rt  a  good  fellow,  by  gad,"  Charlton  exclaimed 
later  in  the  day,  "  and  shouldst  become  a  Cavalier.  Art 
not  sick  to  death  of  living  soberly  and  singing  psalms?" 

"  Truth,  my  lord,"  the  corporal  answered,  "  it  irks  at 
times,  I  own.  But  then  it  pays.  An  I  served  the  king, 
where'd  the  money  come  from,  and  the  rations?  I  know 
ye  have  the  braver  words  and  the  gallantest  leaders. 
But  we've  the  wages  and  the  food.  Then  I've  an  old 
comrade  in  the  troop,  our  quartermaster.  And  he  says 
the  Parliament  has  all  the  rights  of  the  dispute,  and 
never  have  I  found  him  mistaken  yet.     While  he  lives 


197 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

I'll  bide  here.  Hist!  there's  a  step,  the  cornet's.  Why, 
'tie  dusk  already." 

"  In  two  hours,  Jem,"  Ralph  said,  signing  to  him  to 
retire,  "  not  later." 

The  corporal  saluted  and  disappeared.  On  the  stairs 
he  stealthily  drew  a  handful  of  gold  pieces  from  his 
pocket  and  counted  them  carefully. 

"A  rare  youth  this,  my  faith!  No  risk;  that  guzzling 
gander  of  a  knight  discomfited,  and  ten  pounds!  There's 
only  one  difficulty:  how  to  spend  it  out  of  Reuben's  way." 

In  the  bedroom  Charlton  wrung  Ralph's  hand. 

"  Ralph,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "  ye  make  me  feel  hot  all 
over.  Curse  it,  how  shall  I  ever  pay  what  I  owe  to 
you?" 

"Pooh!"  Ralph  answered,  laughing;  "my  heart  is 
lighter  than  it  hath  been  all  day.  What  said  the 
general?  " 

Charlton  gave  an  uneasy  laugh. 

"What  did  I  betray?  Gad,  I  think  they  got  more 
than  I  meant  to  tell.  A  murrain  on  them  both!  Essex 
I  could  have  fenced  with  all  the  day,  but  not  your  cursed 
captain.  No  sooner  did  I  set  my  Lord-General's  nose 
on  a  wrong  scent,  than  whiz  came  a  question  from  those 
set  lips  like  a  cannon-ball  against  a  troop  of  horse,  and 
put  me  to  confusion.  I  hate  that  man.  I  pray  to  God 
I  shall  meet  him  in  battle  where  there  be  none  between, 
Essex  may  be  a  hypocrite  —  all  you  prating  rebels  are, 
saving  your  presence  —  but  he's  a  gentleman.  When  I 
named  the  king  he  raised  his  hat,  sir.  I  could  have 
shaken  him  by  the  hand  for  it.  But  your  captain  never 
moved.  What  you  see  in  such  a  man  to  love  passeth 
my  comprehension.  He  is  iron  —  body,  soul,  and  heart 
—  iron,  sheathed  in  steel ;  while  in  brain  he  is  a  very  fox, 
with  a  cunning  that  is  fathomless.  Talk  not  of  him  as 
one  to  be  compared  to  the  prince,  or  I  could  find  it  in 
my  heart  to  strike  thee.    Zounds,  it  puts  me  in  a  fury." 

"Then  turn  thy  back  upon  it  all,"  Ralph  said,  with 
198 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

difificulty  preventing  himself  from  answering  as  warmly. 
"  We  have  no  time  to  quarrel.  It's  dark.  Drink  this 
cordial  to  give  you  strength,  and  let  me  dress  you." 

He  had  brought  a  cloak,  which  might  have  belonged 
to  Capell,  a  high-crowned  hat,  and  a  scarf  of  orange  silk. 
In  these,  with  his  hair  tucked  inside  his  hat,  Lord 
Charlton  looked  such  a  comical  caricature  of  a  Parlia- 
ment officer  that  they  both  laughed  heartily,  and  the 
little  storm  blew  over.  The  cognac  had  an  immediate 
effect,  and  Charlton  walked  steadily  to  where  Micklejohn 
held  two  horses.  At  the  last  Ralph  had  changed  his  plan 
of  action,  and  he  accompanied  his  friend  himself  beyond 
the  lines.  There  was  no  mishap.  The  fresh  night  air 
revived  Charlton,  and  the  few  soldiers  who  saw  him  took 
him  for  Capell.  When  the  last  sentry  was  passed  the 
friends  shook  hands,  and  Ralph  rode  slowly  back  straight 
to  Cromwell's  quarters.  Now  that  it  was  over,  he  began 
to  feel  limp  and  nervous.  He  regretted  nothing,  but  the 
consequences  were  not  pleasant  to  think  of,  and  never  in 
his  life  had  he  dreaded  anything  so  much  as  the  coming 
interview  with  Cromwell. 

He  looked  through  the  window  of  the  cottage  as  he 
rode  up  to  it.  Cromwell  was  alone,  writing.  At  Ralph's 
entrance  he  held  up  a  warning  hand,  and  went  on  with- 
out stirring  to  the  end  of  his  letter.  Ralph  suffered  tor- 
tures. When  Cromwell  at  last  rose  from  the  table  he 
looked  at  Ralph  with  severe  reproachful  eye. 

"  This  is  ill  done,"  he  said  before  Ralph  could  speak. 
"  Nay,  it  is  beyond  excuse.  I  am  most  sorely  disap- 
pointed in  thee." 

He  paused,  as  if  for  a  reply,  but  Ralph  was  speechless, 
all  his  faculties  benumbed  for  the  moment  by  sheer  aston- 
ishment; for  of  one  thing  he  had  been  confident:  no  one 
had  had  an  inkling  of  his  design. 

"What  cause  had  thou  to  treat  me  so?"  Cromwell 
went  on  sternly.  "  Couldst  not  have  trusted  me  to 
obtain  the  youth's  honourable  exchange,  but  thou  must 

199 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

tamper  with  my  men  and  steal  the  maHgnant  away  from 
his  just  bondage  like  a  thief  in  the  night?  I  know  thy 
thoughts,"  he  continued,  "  that  Salingford  be  ill  disposed 
towards  thy  friend.  You  feared  a  mischief  from  him. 
Think  you,  then"  raising  his  voice  angrily,  "  that  I  would 
let  that  deboshed  tapster  knight  play  foul  with  a  prisoner 
taken  by  my  officer?  Nay,  that  I  cannot  forgive.  Get 
you  hence,  sir.  I  will  report  to  my  Lord-General  that 
my  cornet  seeks  another  troop." 

Then  Ralph  found  his  tongue. 

"  I  plead  nothing  in  my  defence,"  he  said  huskily. 
"  You  have  stripped  me  both  of  weapons  and  armour, 
and  can  stab  where  you  list.  But  hear  me.  Had  I 
thought  you  would  look  upon  my  friend  as  aught  but 
a  prisoner  to  be  treated  as  the  general  might  order,  I 
would  have  died  rather  than  cozened,  or  tried  to  cozen 
you;  but  I  felt  bound  by  my  love  for  one  who  served 
me  in  my  sore  need  —  when  my  father  died  —  to  place 
his  life  before  aught  else.  There  lies  my  excuse;  I  have 
no  other." 

Cromwell  turned  slowly  round  again  and  rested  his 
hand  upon  his  chin. 

"  The  man  is  dear  to  thee?  " 

"  He  was  my  nearest  friend  at  Sidney.  We  are  as 
brothers." 

Cromwell  shrugged  his  shoulders  significantly.  Ralph 
flushed  to  the  temples. 

"Ah!  his  enemies  have  spoken  ill  of  him.  I  will  not 
hide  the  truth  from  you.  At  college  I  was  fond  of  pleas- 
ure, most  of  all  of  horses.  Charlton  had  the  finest  in 
the  town ;  thus  we  drew  together  —  and  —  and  we  diced, 
we  drank,  and  once  we  fought." 

"  For  why?  "  Cromwell  interposed  sharply. 

"  'Twas  about  a  girl,"  Ralph  stammered.  "  He  had  — 
I  thought  he  had  —  insulted  her,  and  I  drew  upon  him. 
He  was  the  better  swordsman,  and  disarmed  me.  I  was 
at  his  mercy,  and  when  he  saw  that  he  threw  his  rapier 

200 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

away,  said  he  was  i'  the  wrong,  and  begged  my  pardon. 
From  that  day  there  was  never  a  cloud  between  us  till 
the  war  began.  At  father's  death  he  bearded  the  arch- 
bishop, e'en  cursed  him,  I  was  told,  for  a  bloodthirsty 
tyrant.  Afterwards,  by  his  sympathy  to  me,  he  saved 
my  reason.  We  went  together  to  Holland,  and  were  two 
years  in  the  same  regiment;  and  there " 

"  You  gambled  still,"  Cromwell  said  drily,  "  and  phil- 
andered 'tween  campaigns  with  all  the  women  of  the 
town;  is  it  not  so?  Nay,"  he  added  roughly,  "  speak  the 
truth  now,  though  thou'st  kept  it  wondrous  well  hid 
these  months." 

Ralph's  chest  heaved. 

"  That  is  a  lie,"  he  exclaimed,  "  a  black  and  damnable 
lie!  An  I  knew  the  man  who  had  said  this  to  thee  he 
would  not  live  to  utter  many  more." 

Cromwell  had  touched  the  sorest  point  of  all,  and  saw 
it.     His  face  softened. 

"  Enough  lad,  enough,"  he  said  gently;  "  thou'lt  rouse 
the  troop.  I  but  asked  a  question.  No  one  has  slan- 
dered you.  Rest  confident  that  I  would  bring  anyone 
who  did  so  to  a  speedy  reckoning.  I  expressed  but 
mine  own  suspicions.  I  have  been  young,  and  have 
known  temptation.     Hast  not  thou?" 

He  spoke  very  gravely,  and  Ralph's  eyes  fell. 

"  Of  course  thou  hast,"  Cromwell  continued;  "  but  hast 
resisted  it?  " 

Ralph  looked  up  and  smiled. 

"Then  God  be  praised!  But  thy  friend,  this  lord,  he 
did  not  resist.  Nay,  I  judge  him  not.  Let  God  do  that. 
But  how  escaped  thou  contamination?    Tell  me  this." 

"  There  is  no  credit  to  me  for  it,"  Ralph  answered  with 
a  sigh.  "  Father  opened  upon  the  matter  before  I  went 
to  college,  with  such  gentleness,  yet  so  clearly  that  I 
could  not  fail  to  take  it  well  to  heart,  though  I  scarcely 
understood,  for  I  was  not  sixteen.  But  when  my  man- 
hood came,  it  seemed  to  me  that  for  his  sake  I  must  keep 

20X 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

pure  though  it  cost  me  my  Hfe.  And  once  resolved  the 
rest  was  easy.  I  hated  lewd  talk ;  I  would  fight  with  any- 
one who  uttered  it  in  my  presence.  And  when  tempta- 
tion strove  with  me  I  beat  it  back,  taking  a  kind  of 
pleasure  in  the  strife  because  it  was  for  his  sake.  This 
was  at  college.  In  Holland  there  was  so  much  work  for 
brain  and  body,  and  my  mind  was  so  burdened  with  the 
troubles  over  here,  that  I  was  seldom  tempted.  Now, 
since  I  came  to  know  —  your  —  family,  the  danger  is 
over.    The  devil  is  dead." 

Cromwell  watched  him  for  a  moment. 

"  I  have  a  letter  from  Ely,"  he  said  suddenly.  "  It 
arrived  but  this  morning.  Rachel  writes  and  sends 
remembrances  to  thee  from  all.     Shall  I  return  thine?" 

Ralph  looked  up  with  his  heart  in  his  eyes,  and  it  was 
Cromwell's  turn  to  sigh. 

"I  beg  you  will,  sir.     When  shall  we  return?" 

"  A  few  days  hence.  Go  to  your  quarters  now.  I 
must  wait  upon  the  general,  and  confess  your  breach  of 
discipline." 

Ralph's  face  lengthened,  and  a  look  of  defiance  crept 
into  his  eyes. 

"Nay,"  Cromwell  continued  kindly;  "be  not  anxious. 
Truth  to  say,  I  think  his  Excellency  will  be  relieved. 
He  wished  no  ill  to  the  Viscount  and  feared  the  inten- 
tions of  Sir  John.  Do  you  know  the  cause  of  ill  blood 
between  the  men?" 

"  It  is  an  evil  business,"  Ralph  answered,  "  but  I  am 
glad  to  tell  it  to  you.  There  was  a  maid  at  Cambridge, 
daughter  of  one  of  my  lord's  tenants,  whom  Sir  John 
would  have  ruined.  That  was  his  chief  amusement  in 
those  days.  But  she  would  have  none  of  him,  and  he 
was  so  angered  that  he  spread  a  report  that  she  was 
wanton.  By  good  fortune  Charlton  heard  of  it,  and  next 
day  in  my  presence,  in  the  public  street,  he  thrashed  the 
slanderer  like  a  dog.  They  fought  in  the  fields,  and  the 
miscreant  was  in  bed  for  a  month.     A  pity  he  ever  rose 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

again,  Charlton  was  too  tender.  I  would  have  killed 
him!" 

Cromwell  raised  a  reproving  finger. 

" '  Vengeance  is  Mine,  saith  the  Lord.'  Yet  it  would 
have  been  well  deserved.  As  for  thee,  thou'rt  too  hasty, 
Ralph!  This  impatience  will  lead  to  thine  undoing  if 
thou  takest  it  not  in  time.  Curb  it,  on  thy  life.  Thou 
wouldst  ever  strike  too  soon.  See  to  it  that  thou  dost 
not  wound  thyself." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

AT  an  early  hour  the  next  morning  a  messenger 
arrived  at  Capell's  quarters  from  Sir  John  SaHng- 
ford,  requesting  an  immediate  interview  upon  urgent 
business.  The  knight  was  pacing  up  and  down  in  a  very 
unpleasant  mood. 

"The  bird  hath  flown,"  was  his  greeting.  "What 
think  you  of  it?" 

"  I  am  surprised " 

"At  what?"  the  knight  snarled.  "Thou  lookest 
pleased.     'Sdeath!  didst  help  in  the  flitting?" 

"I  am  surprised,"  Capell  repeated,  without  noticing 
the  words,  "  and  exceeding  disappointed.  I  have  been 
cozened  also."  He  spoke  with  a  bitterness  which  con- 
vinced even  Salingford. 

"  'Tis  a  most  cursed  chance,"  the  knight  went  on, 
slipping  in  an  expletive  at  every  other  word ;  "  I'd  made 
sure  I'd  caught  him.  The  meshes  of  my  net  were  too 
wide.     I  wish  I  had  not  told  thee." 

"Psha!"  exclaimed  Capell  impatiently.  "Cast  thy 
eyes  a  step  above.     I'd  naught  to  do  with  it." 

"Your  captain?" 

"  Aye." 

"Pish!  what  interest  would  he  serve  by  setting  a 
malignant  free?  " 

"  God  knows! "  Capell  cried,  with  an  irritation  he  very 
seldom  showed.  "But  he  it  was;  naught  happens  in 
the  troop  without  his  knowledge.  Besides,  he  was  fore- 
warned.    You  knew  this  Dangerfield  at  college?  " 

"  Aye,  by  sight." 

"  Didst  ever  hear  that  he  was  rich?  " 
204 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Nay,  a  poor  rat.     Doth  Cromwell  need  money?" 

"  Not  he.  But  I  thought  it  might  be  he  would  favour 
a  young  man  who  possessed  it." 

Salingford  stole  a  glance  at  his  companion.  His  face 
was  clouded,  his  lips  compressed  and  drawn.  "  A  young 
man,"  he  repeated  slowly.  "  The  worthy  captain  per- 
chance hath  a  daughter?  " 

"  A  ward "     Then  he  stopped,  a  little  late. 

Salingford  laughed  as  only  a  sensual  man  can  laugh. 

"A  fair  lady!  Lord!  I  have  smitten  thee,  comrade. 
Nay,  shake  not  thy  solemn  pate;  I  know  thy  secret  now. 
Ha!  ha!  ha!  A  woman's  in  it?  I  might  have  guessed. 
Such  rogues  wi'  the  wenches  are  you  pious  men.  Ye 
be  jealous  of  the  cornet,  with  his  curly  hair.  This  is  rare. 
What  is  she  like?     Give  me  her  charms." 

Capell's  lip  curled,  though  his  face  was  a  dark,  angry 
red.  "  You  strike  air,  Sir  John.  I  be  no  squire  of 
dames." 

"  Thy  denial  weighs  not  a  feather  with  me,"  retorted 
the  other.  "  I  have  found  thee  out.  I  am  like  a  hound 
red-hot  upon  the  scent.  Thou  wilt  not  describe  her? 
Gad!  then  I'll  go  to  Ely  shortly  and  see  her  for  myself. 
Then  look  to  thy  fair.  'Struth,  I  love  a  pretty  woman, 
and  wil-she,  nil-she,  many  a  one's  loved  me." 

He  laughed  louder  than  before  and  showed  his  teeth. 
Capell  turned  upon  him  suddenly,  seized  him  by  the 
collar  of  his  doublet,  and  shook  him  till  his  teeth 
chattered. 

"  Thou  d — d  villain,"  he  roared,  "  if  thou  darest  to 
show  thy  face  in  Cromwell's  house,  and  so  much  as 
casteth  thine  eye  upon  that  maiden,  I'll  take  thee  by  the 
neck  and  cut  thy  tongue  in  twain.  I  am  no  boy  to  be 
frightened  by  a  rapier  point.  Beware,  and  keep  thy 
distance  from  that  town." 

He  loosed  his  hold,  and  Salingford  staggered  back 
into  a  chair.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  could  not  shape  the 
words.     The  passion  of  a  cold-mannered  man  is  a  terrible 

205 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

thing  to  see,  and  Salingford,  though  no  coward,  was  so 
much  astonished  at  Capell's  outburst,  his  nerves  so 
shaken,  that  for  the  moment  he  could  only  gurgle  in 
the  throat  and  gasp  inarticulate  oaths.  Capell  strode 
to  the  door. 

"  Forget  not  my  warning,"  he  said  quietly,  "  for  by 
the  God  above  us,  thou  wilt  get  none  a  second  time." 

The  instant  he  was  gone  Salingford  leapt  up  in  a  fury, 
buckled  on  his  sword,  and  called  for  his  horse,  intending 
to  challenge  the  lieutenant  before  the  troop,  or  before 
the  army  if  need  be.  But  on  second  thoughts,  when  his 
horse  arrived,  he  bottled  up  his  wrath  and  went  about 
other  business.  Though  he  would  not  own  it,  he  did 
not  care  to  face  that  man  just  then.  He  woiild  kill  him, 
such  words  as  those  must  be  paid  for  with  blood,  but  he 
would  wait  for  a  more  favourable  opportunity. 

Capell  also  went  about  his  work,  and  for  the  rest  of 
the  day  did  not  speak  a  word,  except  to  give  necessary 
orders  to  the  men.  But  no  one  noticed  it;  all  were  accus- 
tomed to  his  taciturnity.  Perhaps  no  one  cared  to 
notice. 

Ralph  was  in  good  spirits,  and  was  almost  ashamed 
of  his  light-heartedness,  when,  on  the  following  day, 
order  was  given  for  the  troop  to  return  to  Ely. 

There  were  great  rejoicings  the  night  the  men  came 
home;  mourning  also,  for  only  two  thirds  of  the  troop 
returned.  As  far  as  Ralph  was  concerned,  he  found 
that  he  had  small  cause  to  rejoice.  Before  he  had  been 
at  Ely  a  week  he  discovered  that  his  prophecy  to  Madam 
Cromwell  was  fulfilled  to  the  letter.  His  confession  of 
faith  had  made  him  an  alien  and  an  outlaw.  Though 
admitted  to  the  house  as  an  officer  in  the  troop,  his  com- 
pany was  shunned  by  the  family  there.  No  more  invi- 
tations came  from  Madam  Cromwell.  When  he  met  her 
by  chance  she  would  only  acknowledge  his  bow  stififly 
and  pass  him  by,  her  face  set  and  forbidding.  Mrs. 
Cromwell    deliberately   turned    her   head   away;    Ralph 

206 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

could  have  fancied  she  caught  up  her  skirts  for  fear  they 
might  by  chance  brush  against  him.  Bridget  never 
spoke,  and  even  Betty  —  and  this  was  the  bitterest  of 
all  —  Betty,  whose  eyes  used  to  light  up  and  whose 
voice  rang  with  merry  greetings  in  old  times,  now  cast 
down  her  eyes  and  greeted  him  in  an  awed  half-frightened 
whisper,  as  if  he  were  afflicted  by  some  terrible  disease. 
Only  Rachel  and  Cromwell  did  not  change.  As,  how- 
ever, the  strict  proprieties  of  the  time  prevented  Ralph 
from  ever  seeing  the  first  alone,  and  his  captain  was  far 
too  busy  ever  to  speak  on  any  subject  but  the  most 
urgent  business,  he  did  not  thereby  gain  much  compan- 
ionship. Under  these  circumstances  Ralph  made  a 
strenuous  effort  to  win  the  confidence  and  liking  of 
Capell.  But  here  he  met  with  the  worst  rebuff  of  all. 
From  the  day  of  Edge  Hill  fight  the  lieutenant  had 
encased  himself  in  an  armour  of  reserve.  He  did  not 
avoid  Ralph,  but  met  all  his  advances  like  a  stone  wall. 
He  did  not  seem  to  hear  or  see  them,  and  more  than  this. 
Day  by  day  his  manner  as  senior  officer  in  the  troop 
became  more  curt  and  arbitrary.  In  Cromwell's  pres- 
ence he  said  nothing,  but  when  the  captain  was  absent, 
as  he  frequently  was  in  London  and  elsewhere,  then  did 
Capell  show  a  quiet,  tenacious  masterfulness,  which 
galled  Ralph's  proud  spirit  intensely,  and  caused  him 
more  suffering  than  all  the  rest  of  his  troubles.  It  was 
not  that  the  man  was  overbearing,  or,  at  least,  dictatorial 
at  first,  but  simply  that  he  asserted  to  the  full  all  the 
authority  which  his  position  of  second  in  command 
allowed  him;  and  let  it  be  known  that  there  was  only 
one  way  in  which  the  work  must  be  done — .Geoffrey 
Capell's.     In  short,  he  was  for  ever  finding  fault. 

The  position  of  junior  officer  in  a  troop  was  a  very 
difficult  one  in  those  days.  He  had  no  clearly  defined 
responsibility,  no  authority,  except  what  his  lieutenant 
chose  to  give  him.  In  most  cases  he  was  a  stripling, 
often  the  captain's  son  placed  there  to  learn  the  use  of 

207 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

arms,  laughed  at  by  the  men,  and  snubbed  by  the  quarter- 
master. Ralph,  of  course,  had  never  suffered  in  this 
way,  but  as  soon  as  Capell  began  to  impress  his  person- 
aHty  upon  the  troop  Ralph's  place  became  a  very  thorny 
one,  and  grew  steadily  worse  as  the  months  went  by. 

The  district  round  Ely  was  honeycombed  with  Roy- 
alist plots.  Warnings,  anonymous  and  otherwise, 
reached  Cromwell  daily  of  houses  stored  with  arms;  of 
squires,  clergymen,  and  farmers  who  were  boiling  down 
plate,  their  own  and  other  people's,  for  the  use  of  the 
king.  Edge  Hill  fight  had  fanned  the  flames  of  loyalty 
on  many  hearthstones,  even  in  the  eastern  counties.  To 
deal  with  such  matters  was  now  the  principal  occupation 
of  both  ofificers  and  men  of  the  Ely  troop.  Ralph  found 
it  very  heartless,  miserable  work.  Little  resistance  was 
made  to  the  troopers'  raids.  It  was  a  question  of  acute 
cross-examination,  brisk  searchings  of  households  from 
cellar  to  garret,  and  frequently  the  intimidation  of  women 
and  old  men.  A  deaf  ear  had  to  be  turned  to  all  excuses 
and  pleadings.  Whenever  suspicion  rested  on  a  person 
or  family  their  homestead  had  to  be  turned  literally  inside 
out.  Ralph  detested  the  duty,  and  more  than  once  was 
found  by  Capell  to  have  allowed  some  important  clue  to 
slip  past  him  through  lending  a  too  willing  ear  to  the 
prayers  of  distressed  ladies  to  respect  their  household 
gods.  Such  mistakes  were  never  allowed  to  pass  unre- 
proved,  and  by  degrees  Ralph  perceived,  what  Capell 
was  at  no  pains  to  conceal,  that  his  lieutenant  took  small 
notice  of  his  reports,  and  that  where  a  search  of  real 
importance  had  to  be  made,  if  unable  to  take  command 
himself,  he  sent  Sweetlove,  or  even  Micklejohn,  rather 
than  their  officer. 

Life  spent  in  this  way  soon  became  a  grinding  misery 
and  torture  to  Ralph, only  to  be  endured  because  to  resign 
would  mean  separation  from  Rachel,  and  because  of  the 
loyalty  and  friendship  of  the  troopers,  which  never  failed 
him.     Then  he  felt,  it  could  not  last  for  ever.     As  soon 

208 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

as  the  spring  came  the  war  would  be  renewed,  and  this 
would  mean  freedom  and  the  work  he  loved. 

In  such  manner  Ralph  reflected  when  in  his  quieter 
moods,  and  took  comfort;  but  there  were  other  times 
when  he  became  so  furious  and  savage  with  his  sufferings 
and  the  cause  of  them  that  he  would  resolve  point-blank 
to  go  to  Cromwell,  empty  the  vials  of  his  wrath,  and 
depart.  He  never  doubted  that  he  would  have  to  go, 
for  every  complaint  Capell  made  had  some  foundation 
in  fact,  and  neither  by  word  nor  look  did  the  lieutenant 
betray  the  least  personal  feeling  or  dislike.  Had  Ralph 
known  the  spasms  of  jealousy  that  tortured  Capell  when 
Rachel  greeted  him  with  her  cordial,  pleasant  smile,  he 
would  have  been  astonished.  Still  more  would  he  have 
wondered  had  he  known  that  the  tone  of  Cromwell's 
voice  as  he  greeted  him  after  an  absence  of  a  few  days  — 
his  "  Good-even,  lad,"  with  just  a  touch  of  softness  in 
it  very  few  would  notice  —  seared  Capell  like  a  red-hot 
iron.  No,  he  knew  none  of  these  things,  only  that  the 
man  seemed  possessed  by  a  demon  of  fault-finding,  and  a 
capacity  for  discovering  every  weakness  in  his  armour 
which  was  more  or  less  than  human.  Nor  was  he  aware 
that  though  Christmas  was  now  at  hand,  and  for  three 
months  the  lieutenant  had  exhausted  every  art  he  pos- 
sessed to  ingratiate  himself  with  Madam  Cromwell,  he 
was  exactly  in  the  same  position  —  that  of  a  stranger, 
respected  but  disliked  —  as  on  the  first  day  of  his 
acquaintance.  As  for  Betty,  she  treated  Capell  as  a 
pugnacious  kitten  would  a  strange  dog,  refusing  to 
answer  when  he  spoke  to  her,  running  away  when  she 
met  him  alone,  and  mimicking  him  behind  his  back  until 
Rachel,  to  prevent  serious  trouble  with  Mrs.  Cromwell, 
had  to  threaten  Betty  that  she  would  complain  to  her 
father. 

The  three  girls,  Betty,  Bridget,  and  Rachel,  slept  in 
the  same  room,  and  night  after  night  the  sisters  engaged 
in  a  battle  royal  over  the  two  officers,  for  Bridget  rather 

14  209 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

affected  an  admiration  for  Capell,  though  he  never 
treated  her  with  more  than  very  formal  politeness.  At 
the  end  of  each  dispute  they  would  refer  their  respective 
arguments  to  Rachel.  Neither,  however,  received  any 
satisfaction. 

"You  talk  nonsense,  both,"  she  would  say;  "I  will 
not  listen  to  such  rubbish.  It  would  be  better  far  if  you 
went  to  sleep."  And  then  she  would  turn  over,  close  her 
eyes,  and  refuse  to  say  another  word.  Yet  she  listened, 
and  long  after  the  dispute  had  ceased  and  the  sisters  were 
dreaming,  Rachel  would  lie  awake,  thinking  and 
brooding. 

It  is  ever  the  silent  looker-on  who  sees  most  of  the 
game,  especially  when  the  witness  is  a  woman  with  an 
interest  in  the  players.  And  Rachel  had  exceptionally 
good  opportunities.  As  the  captain's  secretary,  she  was 
present  at  the  daily  meetings  of  the  young  men  during 
Cromwell's  absence,  and  though  Capell's  manner  and 
speech  were  guarded  in  her  presence,  her  perceptions, 
coupled  with  her  knowledge  of  Ralph,  were  too  quick 
to  be  deceived;  and  as  time  went  on  both  men  became 
less  careful  and  circumspect,  and  Rachel  saw  with  dis- 
may that  a  crisis  of  some  sort  was  inevitable.  At  first 
she  was  merely  sorry.  Ralph  was  her  friend;  Capell  had 
her  guardian's  confidence  and  was  a  religious  man.  For 
no  one,  much  less  Rachel,  could  doubt  the  sincerity  of 
the  prayers  he  said  for  the  family  every  morning  and 
evening  in  his  captain's  absence.  But  gradually,  almost 
insensibly,  her  feelings  altered.  Ralph's  face  was  always 
like  an  open  book,  and  Rachel  had  learned  to  read  faces. 
He  grew  thin  and  pale,  and  the  grim  droop  of  his  lips 
she  had  spoken  of  to  Madam  Cromwell  long  ago  became 
much  more  marked.  He  had  the  look  of  a  man  who 
was  worn  down  by  a  life  of  petty  miseries.  His  evident 
suffering  began  to  prey  upon  her  mind.  How  long- 
would  he  bear  it?  and  when  he  ceased  to  be  patient,  what 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

would  he  do?     More  especially,  what  would  her  guardian 
do? 

Such  thoughts  as  these  were  bad  companions  for  a 
girl  who  seldom  shared  her  thoughts  with  another. 
Rachel  herself  began  to  look  worn  and  anxious,  and  to 
suffer  from  want  of  sleep,  and  one  day  Madam  Cromwell 
took  her  soundly  to  task  and  asked  what  ailed  her. 
Rachel  made  an  excuse,  and  after  reading  a  chapter  of 
the  New  Testament  aloud  to  the  old  lady  retired  quietly 
to  her  room,  and  locked  herself  in  to  think  it  out.  It 
was  a  bitterly  cold  day  in  December,  and  there  was  no 
fire  in  the  room,  but  Rachel  needed  none  just  then.  She 
was  hot  all  over,  feverishly  restless,  her  mind  full  of  a 
desire  that  she  frowned  at  —  but  which  would  not  go  — 
to  do  or  say  something  herself  to  end  this  suspense  and 
clear  the  air. 

"Why  doth  he  not  speak  to  my  guardian?"  she 
thought;  "he  is  being  unjustly  treated.  The  lieutenant 
hates  him,  though  for  why  I  cannot  think.  But  he  does, 
and  that  is  not  right.  Captain  Cromwell  should  know  it. 
Were  Oliver  here,  I'd  make  him  tell  his  father.  As  he 
is  away,  there  is  —  there  is  only  me."  She  flushed 
slightly,  and  her  eyes  became  very  bright.  Then  she 
sighed.  "  Life  is  so  hard  now  for  Ralph.  He  stands 
alone.  They  hold  aloof  because  of  his  religion.  It  is 
cruel  —  cruel;  and  the  lieutenant  is  cruellest  of  all.  He 
hath  some  purpose  in  it,  I  believe.  'Tis  to  rid  himself 
of  Ralph,  perhaps.  He  wants  his  captain's  favour  to 
himself,  yet  sees,  as  I  see,  that  he  loves  Ralph  the  best. 

Ah,  now  I  know  it;  and  so But  I  will  not  endure 

such  meanness.     My  guardian  shall  hear  it;  it  will  soon 
be  too  late.     Naught  but  cowardice  keeps  me  silent.     I  ' 
will  speak,  and  that  to-morrow,  when  he  returns  from 
London." 

She  rose  from  her  bed,  on  which  she  had  been  sitting, 
and  shivered.  "How  cold  it  is  —  bitter  cold!  I  must 
to  my  work." 

211 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

She  hastened  away,  and  was  soon  busy  with  her  cus- 
tomary household  tasks.  No  one  who  saw  her  quiet 
face  that  evening  as  she  sewed  before  the  fire  would  have 
guessed  the  thoughts  that  were  chasing  one  another 
through  her  mind.  It  was  a  severe  struggle  to  Rachel 
to  resolve  upon  aggressive  action.  To  be  patient  and 
constant  was  her  nature,  but  not  to  step  forward  and 
act.  Yet  when  once  she  had  formed  a  resolution  that 
something  must  be  done,  the  fates  themselves  would  not 
turn  her  from  her  path. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  news  that  Cromwell,  who  had  been  in  London 
two  weeks  sitting  in  his  place  in  Parliament,  was 
returning  on  the  morrow  had  been  brought  by  special 
messenger  to  his  wife.  There  was  also  a  letter,  a  bulky 
one,  for  Capell  from  Isaac  Hepworth. 

"  An  opportunity,"  it  ran,  "  hath  been  vouchsafed  to  me  to 
leave  my  post  for  a  few  days,  and  these  (D.  V.)  I  spend  at  Ely, 
travelling  thither  with  thy  captain;  expect  me,  therefore,  the 
day  after  this  reacheth  thy  hands.  I  have  read  with  an  eagerness 
and  pleasure  not  to  be  expressed  thine  accounts  of  the  Socinian's 
manifold  discomfitures.  May  the  Lord  be  praised!  Indeed, 
thou  hast  deserved  well  of  godly  men,  and  I  discern  with  sincerest 
joy  that  even  Cromwell  begins  to  appreciate  thy  true  worth.  He 
cannot,  he  says,  praise  thy  diligence  too  highly.  My  dear  friend, 
let  me  beseech  thee  to  crown  thy  good  works  by  exposing  upon 
our  arrival,  in  some  direct  and  powerful  manner,  the  backslidings, 
the  impious  scoffings,  and  the  sinful  pride  of  this  youth,  so  that 
Cromwell  be  deprived  of  further  power  or  justification  for  keep- 
ing him  in  the  troop.  It  would  appear  to  me  an  opportunity 
we  should  not  allow  to  pass;  for  though  against  thee  alone,  as 
once  against  myself,  Cromwell's  obstinate  tenderness  for  the 
youth's  father  might  lead  him  to  overlook  much  misconduct,  yet 
he  cannot  withstand  us  both,  and  especially  if  proof  be  forth- 
coming that  the  youth  fails  by  his  own  standard  in  the  carnal 
duties  of  an  officer.  I  am  already  acquainted  with  young  men 
who  would  take  the  youth's  place  should  Cromwell  declare,  as 
he  did  once  to  me,  that  there  be  none  to  be  had.  Thus,  given 
evidence  of  some  gross  neglect  of  duty  —  and  I  am  sure  thou 
canst  produce  such  evidence  —  the  object  for  which  I  have 
prayed  for  so  many  months  may  be  attained  at  last.  I  pray  you 
consider  this  in  your  prayers.  May  God  bless  you!  My  affec- 
tionate remembrances  unto  my  niece.  The  Almighty  hath,  I  am 
confident,  raised  a  champion  for  her  defence  in  thy  person,  to 
whom  neither  she,  nor  anyone  who  hath  her  eternal  welfare  truly 
at  heart,  can  be  too  grateful. 

"  I   rest. 

"  Your  affectionate  friend, 

"  Isaac  Hepworth." 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Capell  lay  awake  for  many  hours  the  night  he  received 
this  letter,  not  to  decide  whether  he  should  follow  the 
minister's  advice  —  the  course  recommended  he  had 
resolved  upon  before  the  letter  came  —  but  to  think  out 
in  all  its  bearings  a  plan  he  had  been  maturing  for  some 
days,  and  to  decide  whether  the  time  was  ripe  for  putting- 
it  into  execution.  After  careful  consideration  he  thought 
that  it  was. 

Directly  after  breakfast  next  morning  the  officers  met 
as  usual  in  Cromwell's  library  to  arrange  the  business 
of  the  day.  Rachel  was  present  —  Capell  took  particular 
care  of  that  —  and  all  letters  which  had  arrived  since  the 
evening  before  were  opened  and  read.  One  of  these 
seemed  to  cause  the  lieutenant  peculiar  concern.  It  was 
a  scrawl  in  an  almost  illegible  hand  written  on  a  dirty 
piece  of  paper.  He  read  it  several  times  before  he  passed 
it  to  Ralph. 

"  A  very  vilely  worded  thing,  upon  my  life,"  he  said 
in  a  tone  so  quiet  and  unusually  courteous  that  Rachel 
raised  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him  over  her  pen.  "  But 
we  must  attend  to  it  without  delay.  I  shall  put  the 
execution  of  the  business  in  thy  hands,  cornet." 

Ralph  read  the  letter  and  uttered  an  exclamation. 

"  Surely,  lieutenant,  this  be  a  piece  of  spite."  Then, 
turning  to  Rachel,  "  I  would  have  your  judgment  in  the 
matter.  Here's  some  knave  who  declares  that  in  the 
dwelling  of  Mistress  Deborah  Brampton,  The  Grange, 
Milton,  there  are  secreted  a  thousand  pounds  of  silver, 
ten  hogshead  of  salted  beef,  one  hundred  muskets,  fifty 
swords,  and  a  store  of  armour,  placed  there  by  malig- 
nants  for  the  behoof  of  the  Royal  army." 

Rachel's  eyes  opened  wide. 

"  Mistress  Brampton !  That  is  indeed  strange.  I  have 
heard  my  guardian  say  her  husband  was  always  a  most 
well-affected  man." 

"  There,"  Ralph  exclaimed,  "  you  hear  that,  lieutenant. 
Why,  the  matter  is  absurd." 

214 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  I  am  not  of  that  opinion,"  was  the  answer,  very 
quietly  spoken,  in  a  sHghtly  sarcastic  tone.  "  The  man 
is  dead.     The  woman " 

"  A  most  gracious  lady,"  Ralph  said  shortly,  "  whom 
I've  met  in  Madam  Cromwell's  presence,  and  have  heard 
is  a  distant  kinswoman  of  hers." 

"  The  woman,  I  say,"  rejoined  Capell,  "  is  a  Papist." 

He  paused  as  if  there  was  no  more  to  be  said.  Ralph's 
lip  curled. 

"  That  is  unfortunate,  indeed.  For  then  in  your  eyes 
must  she  be  guilty  of  crime.  But  methinks  we  have 
known  that  long.    What  else  know  you  concerning  her?  " 

"  Naught  I  shall  tell  you,"  Capell  replied  coldly. 
"  The  task  must  be  set  about  at  once.  Take  the  quarter- 
master and  ten  troopers.  See  that  you  search  more 
thoroughly  than  on  the  last  occasion.  Mistress  Rachel, 
I  will  ask  you  to  write  from  my  dictation  replies  to  these 
questions  from  the  commissioners  in  Cambridge.  I  do 
not  wish  to  leave  more  labour  for  the  captain  than  is 
necessary.  He  will  be  much  fatigued  belike,  for  it  is 
rough  travelling  weather.  Address  the  chairman  —  Sir 
Francis  Bacon." 

He  had  turned  his  back  upon  Ralph,  taking  no  more 
notice  of  his  presence  than  if  he  had  been  a  trooper. 
For  an  instant  Rachel  thought  there  would  be  an  out- 
burst, for  Ralph's  eyes  were  ablaze.  But,  controlling 
himself,  he  bowed  to  her,  and  stalked  out  without  a  word. 
He  saw  Capell  smile  as  he  left  the  room. 

"  When  I  return,"  he  muttered,  as  he  strode  to  the 
men's  quarters,  "  I  will  tell  Cromwell  he  must  find 
another  cornet.  My  patience  is  at  an  end.  I  shall  do 
that  man  a  mischief.     He  maddens  me." 

The  men  were  nearly  as  much  disgusted  as  Ralph 
when  they  found  they  had  to  turn  out  on  a  bitterly  cold 
day,  and  ride  ten  weary  miles  on  such  an  errand  as 
Capell  had  given  them. 

The  Bramptons  were  much  respected,  and  though  the 

215 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

lady  of  the  house  was  of  a  Catholic  family,  it  was  known 
that  her  relatives  had  cast  her  oflf  upon  her  marriage  with 
the  Puritan  squire,  and  she  was  so  good  to  the  poor,  so 
simple  and  unpretending  in  her  life  and  habits,  that  her 
name  stood  as  high  in  the  fens  as  that  of  her  husband, 
who  had  been  in  his  lifetime  a  strenuous  Parliament  man. 

Ralph  was  in  so  bad  a  temper  that  he  made  no  secret 
of  his  disbelief  in  the  anonymous  letter.  But  orders 
were  orders,  and  until  he  was  relieved  from  his  present 
post  he  must  needs  obey  Capell.  So,  in  spite  of  the 
grumblings  of  the  troop  and  his  own  anger,  he  got  his 
men  smartly  into  the  saddle,  and  they  set  off  briskly 
along  the  Cambridge  road.  As  his  custom  was,  Ralph 
made  Sweetlove  ride  with  him,  and  after  a  time  could 
not  resist  unburdening  his  soul. 

"  A  pretty  business,  Reuben.  What  think  you  we'll 
find  at  Brampton  Grange?" 

Reuben  pursed  his  lips  and  made  no  answer.  Ralph 
went  on  hotly  — 

"  An  we  come  upon  an  ounce  of  silver  or  one  hogs- 
head of  beef  not  properly  belonging  to  the  family,  Pll 
forego  my  commission  and  leave  the  troop." 

Sweetlove  grunted.  "  What  doth  the  lieutenant  know 
besides  the  letter? " 

''  Nothing,  I  believe,  except  that  the  captain  returns 
shortly,  and  he  wishes  to  see  him  in  my  absence." 

"Nay,  you  wrong  him,  sir;  Pm  sure  of  that.  'Sides, 
what  can  he  say  that  will  not  bear  the  light?" 

Ralph  laughed. 

"  You  take  me  in  the  flank  there.  Truly  I  hate  the 
man,  wherefore  I  am  prejudiced,  and  should  hold  my 
peace.     But,  tell  me,  what  shall  we  find  at  the  Grange?" 

Sweetlove  wagged  his  head  sagely. 

"  That  is  as  it  may  turn  out.  Master  Cornet.  I  am 
truly  sorry  for  the  circumstance.  I  knew  Squire  Bramp- 
ton's father  and  his  father's  father;  but  where  you've 
women  and  Papists  besides,  God  knows  what  a  coil  there 

216 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

may  be.  One  thing  be  certain,  quite.  Th'  lieutenant 
hath  more  in  his  mind  touching  this  business  than  he  has 
dropped  to  you.  We  must  beware  lest  we  be  caught 
napping." 

Brampton  Grange  was  a  plain,  square  house  of  stone. 
In  summer  its  hard  outlines  were  softened  by  creepers 
and  climbing  roses;  but  at  this  time  of  year  it  stood  in 
the  midst  of  a  grove  of  elms  and  poplars  without  a 
redeeming  feature;  staring,  uncompromising,  as  if  the 
architect,  called  upon  to  construct  a  mansion  on  this  fiat, 
fenny  land,  bare  of  a  single  picturesque  feature,  had 
given  way  to  a  kind  of  despair,  and  erected  one  in  keep- 
ing with  the  landscape.  It  was  a  large  house,  however, 
with  ample  barns  and  comfortable  accommodation  for 
the  throng  of  farm-servants,  who  crowded  in  from  field 
and  byre  to  stare  at  the  troopers. 

"Be  it  a  holiday,  or  what?"  muttered  Sweetlove. 
"  They  are  doing  no  work  to-day." 

Ralph  ordered  his  men  to  dismount  and  search  the 
outbuildings  while  he  went  himself  with  Sweetlove  to 
the  front  door.  There  was  something  more  than  usually 
mournful  in  the  aspect  of  the  great  gaunt  hous^;  the 
blinds  were  down  at  all  the  windows,  and  the  knocker 
was  mufilled  in  black  cloth. 

"  Good  lack !  "  Ralph  exclaimed  irritably,  "  'tis  a  death. 
That  accounts  for  the  crowd.  The  whole  place  be  in 
mourning.  He  knew  it;  I'll  wager  he  did.  I've  two 
minds  to  do  naught  but  make  inquiry  among  the 
servants." 

Nevertheless,  he  raised  the  knocker  of  the  door,  and 
beat  a  subdued  tattoo  on  the  great  oak  panels.  Experi- 
ence had  taught  him  that  in  these  cases  to  question 
household  domestics  was  the  most  hopeless  waste  of  time. 
He  knocked  thrice  before  anyone  answered.  At  last  the 
grey  head  of  the  house-steward  was  thrust  out.  Ralph 
noticed  that  his  eyes  were  red. 

"  What  would  ye,  then,  sir?  " 
217 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

There  was  a  pathetic  appeal  in  his  voice  that  went  to 
Ralph's  heart. 

"  We  would  speak  a  moment  to  your  mistress,  friend," 
he  answered.  "  Tell  her  that  it  is  a  matter  of  great  urg- 
ency, or  we'd  not  trouble  her.     Have  you  a  death  here?  " 

The  man  rubbed  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes  with  a 
groan. 

'"Deed,  yes,  sir.  Master  Jack  —  he  was  the  only 
child  —  was  took  yesterday;  a  wasting  fever  it  was. 
]\Iistress  had  the  best  of  doctors.  One  from  London  is 
in  the  house  this  minute,  but  no  good  came  of  it.  As 
to  seeing  her,  I  hardly  know  how  to  do  your  bidding, 
sir  —  captain,  I  mean.  She's  crazed  with  grief;  the  joy 
of  her  life  be  gone.  We  are  all  nigh  dazed  with  the 
shock  of  it." 

"  I  will  first  see  someone  in  authority  then,  good  stew- 
ard. Admit  us,  at  least;  it  is  cold  upon  this  step.  Send 
me  whom  you  will." 

The  man  opened  the  door  at  these  words  with  a  hasty 
apology,  and  leaving  his  visitors  in  the  hall,  hurried 
away. 

In  the  hall  was  a  roaring  fire  of  logs.  Reuben,  who 
was  very  cold,  stood  as  near  the  blaze  as  possible,  and 
placidly  rubbing  his  hands,  carefully  scrutinized  every- 
thing, counted  the  doors,  noted  a  crack  in  the  panelling 
which  might  mean  a  secret  spring,  and  calculated  the 
number  of  rooms  that  a  house  of  this  size  would  be  likely 
to  contain;  while  Ralph,  who  scarcely  felt  the  weather  in 
his  irritation  of  mind,  walked  up  and  down  biting  his  lips, 
and  trying  to  think  how  he  could  express  in  the  least 
offensive  terms  the  demand  he  would  be  obliged  to  make. 
The  steward  was  away  some  time,  and  they  were  about 
to  go  and  look  for  him  when  they  heard  a  step  above, 
and  Ralph  gave  an  exclamation  of  astonishment,  as 
Doctor  Taunton  came  leisurely  down  the  stairs.  He 
bowed  to  them  both  with  great  politeness,  not  recognis- 
ing Ralph  in  his  helmet  and  armour. 

218 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  I  greet  you,  gentlemen,  on  behalf  of  our  poor  madam 

here,  stricken  in  grief.     She  desires Good  God! 

Ralph!" 

He  started  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost,  and  for  the  first 
time  Ralph  saw  the  coolness  of  the  little  man  desert  him. 
He  looked  thoroughly  disconcerted  and  abashed;  then 
he  smiled,  a  faint  reflection  of  his  old  smile,  and  shook 
hands. 

Ralph  was  overcome  for  the  moment  by  the  joy  of 
seeing  a  friendly  face.  "  An  amazing  piece  of  good  for- 
tune this!"  he  cried.  "So  you  be  the  London  doctor 
the  steward  spoke  of.  Certes,  I  did  not  expect  to  see 
tiiinc!  Are  you  well?  You  seem  weary  and  jaded. 
What  ails  you,  sir?" 

He  took  the  doctor  affectionately  by  both  hands. 
They  were  icy  cold. 

"  'Tis  like  enough,"  the  little  man  said  in  his  quiet 
tone;  "this,  boy,  be  a  house  of  death.  But  now  tell  me 
your  purpose  here.  You  ride  not  in  these  things," 
touching  his  breastplate,  "  for  pleasure." 

He  held  Ralph's  hand  while  he  spoke,  but  did  not  look 
at  him.  His  quick  eyes  were  busy  with  the  quarter- 
master. 

Ralph  became  grave  again  at  once  and  sighed. 

"  We  hear  there  are  stores  of  provisions,  arms,  and 
money  here  which  have  been  collecting  for  some  time 
past  for  the  malignants  —  I  mean  the  Royal  army.  We 
must  find  them,  doctor;  mind,  we  will  do  it  with  small 
inconvenience  to  anyone,"  he  added  as  Taunton  looked 
very  grave.  "  My  men  are  discreet,  and  the  quartermas- 
ter is  my  friend.  You  need  have  no  fear  of  rudeness 
from  us." 

"Tut!  I  have  none,"  the  anxiety  upon  his  face  vanish- 
ing more  quickly  than  it  came.  "  I  am  but  a  guest  here, 
sent  for  to  see  the  child  who  was  sick ;  but  I  will  answer 
for  the  lady.  She  has  nothing  to  hide,  and  I  have  but 
to  mention  your  name  —  she  knew  your  father  —  and 

219 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

all  will  be  left  at  your  disposal.  Search  you  then,  and 
welcome.  While  you  go  call  your  men  to  aid  you  I  will 
find  that  steward  fellow.  The  family  is  Puritan,  after 
your  hearts,  not  mine."  He  made  a  comical  grimace  that 
set  even  Sweetlove  grinning.  "  The  husband,  lately 
dead,  was,  I  understand,  John  Hampden's  nearest  friend. 
There  is  but  one  thing  to  say  —  I  speak  as  man  to  man  — 
forget  not  that  a  mother  crushed  with  the  sorest  blow 
that  ever  fell  on  woman,  the  loss  of  her  only  son,  lieth 
overhead.  Bear  this  in  mind,  and  may  God  speed  you. 
You  are  but  doing  your  duty.  Now  to  work!  My 
time  is  short,  yours  also." 

He  nodded  pleasantly,  and  went  briskly  down  the 
hall. 

"  What  think  you  now?  "  said  Ralph,  as  they  went  to 
call  the  men. 

"  A  gentleman  of  ready  speech  and  gentle  manners. 
Know  you  what  he  is?" 

"An  old  friend  of  my  father's;  indeed,  my  guardian, 
a  gentleman  and  a  man  of  honour.  I  will  stake  my  life 
upon  it." 

Reuben  nodded  gravely. 

"  You  should  know  your  friends.  A  little  too  honeyed 
in  his  choice  of  words.     Be  he  a  confirmed  malignant?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  he  a  chirurgeon?  " 

"  One  of  the  best  in  London." 

"H'm!" 

Reuben  could  not  be  persuaded  to  say  more,  but  on 
the  whole  he  seemed  well  satisfied." 

The  door  was  open,  as  if  by  invitation,  when  they 
returned.  The  barns  had  been  thoroughly  searched 
without  result,  and  no  servant  or  other  person  could  be 
persuaded  to  talk  about  anything  but  the  boy  who  had 
died  the  day  before. 

"  Now  friends,"  cried  the  doctor  cheerfully,  "  lead  on 
where  ye  will.     If  any  door  be  locked  the  steward  must 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

find  the  key.  I  have  seen  the  mistress,  and  she  makes 
the  house  your  own  to  search  through." 

They  began  with  the  cellars;  then  the  ground  floor, 
kitchen,  sculleries,  pantry,  and  buttery;  next  the  recep- 
tion rooms,  the  library,  and  the  hall;  then  upstairs.  By 
this  time  Sweetlove  and  the  doctor  were  on  very  friendly 
terms,  Taunton's  dry  humour,  the  promptness  with  which 
he  caused  every  door  to  be  opened,  often  obviously 
against  the  steward's  wishes,  and  his  total  absence  of 
resentment  at  the  extremely  thorough  manner  in  which 
Sweetlove  and  his  men  did  their  work,  began  to  impress 
the  quartermaster  in  his  favour,  and  though  he  did  not 
relax  in  the  least  the  vigilance  of  his  search,  the  business 
proceeded  more  rapidly  than  usual.  At  length  they 
reached  the  upper  stories.  The  first  room  they  entered 
was  a  touching  sight.  It  had  been  apparently  a  nursery. 
Two  women  were  gently  laying  away  in  drawers  a  heap 
of  playthings,  weeping  as  they  worked.  Doctor  Taun- 
ton signed  to  them  to  withdraw,  but  Ralph  stopped  short. 

"Hold,  men;  this  is  a  sanctuary.  Don't  move,  my 
good  women.  Reuben,  do  your  work  alone,  and 
quickly." 

The  quartermaster  stepped  inside  and  made  a  swift 
examination  of  cupboards  and  walls. 

"  Naught  there,  cornet." 

When  they  were  in  the  passage  again,  Doctor  Taunton 
said  quietly  to  the  steward:  — 

"  Go  thou  ahead  and  warn  thy  mistress  that  she  will 
be  presently  disturbed." 

But  the  man  drew  back  and  wrung  his  hands. 

"  God  preserve  me,  doctor,  I  cannot.  Let  them  go 
an  they  must,  but  I'll  be  no  witness  to  it,  nor  carry  such 
message  to  my  lady.  She's  abed,  gentlemen,"  he  cried, 
turning  with  a  desperate  appeal  to  Ralph,  "  a-laying  white 
and  still  and  speechless,  scarce  breathing  in  her  misery. 
She  cannot  even  weep.     I  cannot  go;  I  will  not." 

"  Thou  fool,"  the  doctor  cried  angrily,  "  then  must  I 

221 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

go  myself.  I  have  sworn  to  this  officer  that  no  room 
shall  be  shut  against  him.  Thinkest  thou  I  shall  break 
my  word?  " 

"It  will  kill  her,"  muttered  the  man  rebelhously;  "ye 
said  so  yourself." 

"  And  if  I  did,"  was  the  sharp  answer,  "  I  know  enough 
—  I  have  heard  enough  —  of  Cromwell's  troop,  to  be 
sure  that  even  a  woman's  life  will  not  hold  them  from 
their  duty!  "  He  said  the  words  bitterly,  and  Ralph  saw 
that  his  face  was  very  white.  "  What  if  the  information 
they  act  upon  turn  out  to  be  a  lie?  What  even  if  they 
know  this  in  their  hearts?  It  is  naught  to  them.  They 
are  not  men,  but  soldiers,  bound  by  the  iron  discipline 
of  their  godly  captain.  They  dare  not  disobey.  Stand 
aside,  then.     I  will  go  before;  do  thou  let  them  pass." 

He  pushed  the  man  roughly  out  of  his  way,  and 
walked  down  the  passage. 

"  Stay,  doctor."  Ralph  spoke  in  a  tone  sharp  and 
decided,  the  tone  of  a  man  who  has  taken  counsel  with 
himself  and  made  up  his  mind.  "  We  leave  that  chamber 
unentered.     Open  not  the  door." 

Taunton  gave  an  impatient  grunt. 

"Nonsense!  Now  thy  feeling  overcomes  thy  sense. 
Canst,  in  the  face  of  all  these  men  of  thine,  withhold  thy 
hand?  What  will  thy  captain  say?  Why,  he  will  call 
thee  chicken-hearted,  or  court-martial  thee  for  insubor- 
dination. Thou  must  obey  —  obey  as  a  servant  those 
who  respect  not  the  widow  nor  the  weak." 

Ralph's  face  grew  stern. 

"  Peace,  sir!  I  obey  my  conscience  first.  Neither  I 
nor  any  of  these  men  who  are  under  my  command  enter 
that  room.     Whither  doth  this  passage  lead?" 

They  walked  along  it  past  the  chamber  door,  and  the 
steward  muttered  a  fervent  blessing  on  Ralph's  head. 
No  one  else  spoke.  Not  by  word  or  gesture  did  Taun- 
ton show  either  gratitude  or  pleasure.  In  two  hours 
more  the  house  had  been  searched  from  top  to  bottom. 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Nothing  had  been  found.  Refreshments  were  now 
olTered,  of  which  the  visitors  partook,  and  then  the  order 
was  given  to  mount. 

As  the  men  obeyed,  Sweetlove,  who  had  been  standing 
apart  frowning  to  himself,  drew  Ralph  aside. 

"  Master  Cornet,  I  must  speak.  Bethink  thee,  I  pray. 
We  should  search  that  room." 

"At  risk  of  the  lady's  life?     No,  Reuben." 

"  Suppose  it  be  a  trick?  " 

"  Then  I  will  suffer  for  it.     Come,  the  men  are  ready." 

The  old  man  sighed. 

"  As  you  will.  You  always  will  do  as  you  will,  and  I 
might  have  spared  my  breath.  Yet  if  I  commanded " 

"Pish!"  Ralph  cried,  "a  truce  to  it  all!  I  have  no 
doubts,  and,  thank  God,  I  have  not  the  lieutenant  to 
reckon  with  to-day.  The  captain  is  at  home  by  now, 
and  I  report  to  him." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CROMWELL'S  library,  where  Ralph  upon  his  return 
from  Brampton  Grange  found  the  captain,  was 
a  room  with  an  amazing  number  of  nooks  and  corners, 
a  plainly  furnished,  severely  practical,  uncompromisingly 
unornamental  room,  much  like  its  master,  as  rooms  ten- 
anted solely  by  one  person  are  so  often  wont  to  be. 
There  was  one  square  window  to  the  south,  and  two 
doors,  one  opening  to  the  outside,  by  which  the  farmers 
entered  from  the  courtyard  to  pay  their  tithes,  the  other 
communicating  with  the  rest  of  the  house.  The  fire- 
place faced  the  inner  door,  and  was  large  for  a  room 
scarcely  twelve  feet  square.  The  furniture  consisted  of 
a  worn  table  of  black  oak,  solid  as  marble,  and  marked 
with  generations  of  chippings  of  knives  in  youthful  fin- 
gers; half  a  dozen  high-backed,  hard-seated  wooden 
chairs,  and  book-shelves  on  three  sides  of  the  room. 
The  books  were  moth-eaten  and  dusty.  The  floor  was 
covered  with  coarse  matting,  worn  into  holes  from  Crom- 
well's habit  of  pacing  up  and  down  the  room.  It  was  a 
room  for  business,  thought,  and  meditation,  not  the 
chamber  of  learned  leisure.  Here  countless  letters  were 
read  and  answered,  but  no  books,  except  the  big  Bible, 
which  was  in  constant  use  and  stood  in  dangerous  prox- 
imity to  the  inkstand,  were  read;  no  study,  except  that 
of  human  nature,  ever  thought  of. 

The  afternoon  was  waning  when  Ralph,  booted  and 
spurred  and  splashed  with  mud,  came  in  to  report  his 
search  of  Brampton  Grange.  He  had  been  told  by  the 
servants  that  Cromwell  was  alone,  and  was  much  put  out 
to  find  not  only  Capell  with  him,  but  Isaac  Hepworth. 
They  were  sitting  round  the  fire,  and  Ralph  was  certain 

224 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

by  the  look  the  minister  gave  him  at  his  entrance  that 
he  had  been  the  subject  of  their  conversation. 

All  rose,  and  Cromwell  extended  his  hand. 

"  The  storm  hath  caug-ht  thee,  Ralph.  We  w^ere  more 
fortunate.     What  is  thy  news  ?  " 

His  tone  and  manner  were  as  cordial  as  usual,  and 
Ralph's  temperature,  which  had  been  falling  with  the 
weather,  rose  again. 

"  My  report,  sir,  will  be  a  surprise  to  your  lieutenant, 
and  perchance  a  disappointment."  He  turned  to  Capell. 
"  In  execution  of  orders  received,  I  journeyed  to  Milton, 
and  there  searched  the  house,  barns,  stables,  and  all 
dwellings  pertaining  to  Brampton  Grange  and  found 
naught  —  not  one  ounce  of  silver,  not  a  pound  of  meat, 
neither  arms  nor  armour.  The  letter  was  a  fabrication 
of  the  enemy  or  some  false  friend,  I  know  not  which; 
but  of  one  thing  I  am  sure;  it  was  a  lie." 

He  spoke  with  slow  bitter  emphasis,  glaring  at  Capell. 
The  lieutenant's  face,  however,  showed  not  the  least 
emotion,  unless  a  slight,  a  very  slight,  smile  of  satisfac- 
tion, which  passed  quickly  over  it  and  left  it  graver  than 
before,  could  be  called  so.  His  answer  was  to  glance 
at  Cromwell.  But  the  minister  could  not  contain  him- 
self, and  had  cleared  his  throat  for  an  outburst  of  vehe- 
ment speech,  when  Cromwell  silenced  him  with  a  motion 
of  the  hand,  and  addressed  Ralph  in  harsh,  questioning- 
tones,  looking  from  him  to  Capell  and  back  again. 

"  Cornet,  what  mean  you?  You  speak  at  the  lieutenant 
with  looks  that  seem  to  say  you  would  gladly  draw  upon 
him.    What  means  it,  I  say?  " 

"But  this,  sir,"  was  the  hot  reply:  "I  believe  him  to 
be  mine  enemy,  and  mayhap  yours." 

"  A  lie,"  Capell  answered  in  a  cold,  contemptuous  tone, 
"a  double  lie!" 

"  My  meaning,  sir,"  Ralph  went  on,  taking  no  notice 
of  the  interruption,  "  is  this.  For  months  past  I  have 
not  known  a  quiet  mind,  nor  taken  satisfaction  in  my 
15  225 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

work.  At  first  I  searched  for  shortcomings  of  mine  own, 
but  found  none  to  account  for  what  I  suffered.  Day  in, 
day  out,  it  hath  ever  been  the  same.  With  quiet  malice, 
persistent,  yet  ever  underhand,  he  hath  pursued  me  with 
blame  and  bitter  carpings.  In  your  presence  they  are 
well  hid;  in  your  absence  they  come  forth  and  goad  me 
till  I  am  nigh  distraught.  I  have  never  spoken  to  you, 
for  never  until  to-day  had  I  sufficient  cause;  but  I  will 
now.  I  have  been  sent  with  ten  men  to  Milton.  What 
to  do?  Why,  harry  a  poor  household,  a  household 
known  to  be  well  affected,  and  its  lady  a  kinswoman  of 
your  own,  who  lieth  in  her  chamber  mourning  for  her 
only  son.  I  say  naught  of  the  fruitless  journey  and  mis- 
spent time.  Doubtless  some  inquiry  had  to  be  made 
into  the  letter  we  received.  But  if  it  be  as  I  suspect, 
if  your  lieutenant  knew  well  what  I  should  find  at  my 
journey's  end,  and  hugged  himself  to  think  I'd  have  to 
do  what  he  knows  I  most  detest  —  deal  hardly  with 
defenceless  folk  —  then  I  tell  him  in  your  presence  'twas 
an  action  mean  and  spiteful,  a  coward's  thought,  a  trick 
unworthy  of  a  man." 

His  words  came  fast  and  hotly,  and  when  at  the  end 
Capell  broke  into  a  low  sneering  laugh  he  clenched  his 
hands,  and,  but  for  the  presence  they  were  in,  would 
have  struck  him  on  the  mouth.  Cromwell  stepped 
between  them. 

"  Peace!  "  he  said.  "  Ralph,  thou  hast  been  cozened. 
Lieutenant,  keep  thy  mirth  for  a  fitter  season.  Tell  him 
the  truth." 

"  I  tested  you  to-day,"  Capell  said  very  slowly.  "  I, 
like  yourself,  awaited  the  captain's  coming  before  I  told 
him  what  for  these  months  I  have  known  touching  the 
nature  of  your  principles.  Now  answer  this  before  the 
captain.  It  is  he  shall  judge,  not  me.  Was  any  chamber 
in  the  house  left  unsearched?" 

"  That  where  Madam  Brampton  lay." 

"  Where  it  was  said  she  lay.  Then,  indeed,  you  could 
226 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

not  but  return  empty-handed,  friend.  There,  and  there 
only,  was  the  treasure.  There  be  two  chambers  with  a 
secret  door  between.  A  chest  of  silver,  not  a  woman, 
lieth  in  the  bed;  beneath  it  arms  and  armour,  in  the  next 
apartment  the  provisions.  You  have  indeed  been  fooled. 
Yet  that  is  but  part.  The  captain,  perchance,  will  wish 
to  know  why." 

He  paused,  leaning  on  the  table  and  drumming  his 
fingers  upon  it,  looking  grimly  at  Cromwell.  For  an 
instant  no  one  spoke.  Ralph's  teeth  were  set;  the  colour 
had  left  his  face. 

"  How  know  you  this?  "  he  gasped. 

"  The  house  steward  told  me.    Did  you  see  him?  " 

"  He  admitted  us." 

"  No  doubt,  a  clever  rogue,  who  hath  played  a  many 
parts.  At  the  present  it  suits  him  to  profess  to  be  a 
Papist.  He  writ  that  letter;  I  know  his  hand.  If  you 
think  I  lie,"  he  continued  in  a  tone  of  quiet  contempt, 
"  wait  until  to-morrow.  To  safeguard  the  treasure  I  gave 
orders  for  a  score  of  men  to  start  for  Milton  if  you 
returned  empty-handed.    They  will  be  there  in  an  hour." 

Ralph  groaned.  He  saw  it  all  now,  and  how  easily 
he  had  stepped  into  the  trap,  and  brought  about  his  own 
undoing.  An  overwhelming  sense  of  shame  drove  from 
his  mind  even  his  hatred  for  Capell.  He  was  too  much 
crushed  even  to  resent  the  deception  which  had  sent  him 
without  a  clue  on  a  doubtful  errand.  All  he  saw  was  that 
he  had  been  deceived,  and  by  the  man  he  would  have 
trusted  as  a  father  —  Doctor  Taunton. 

"  I  have  naught  to  answer,  sir,"  he  said  miserably  to 
Cromwell.  "  The  house  appeared  in  mourning.  We 
searched,  but  left  that  room  untouched  because  I  trusted 
their  good  faith,  and  thought  the  mother  of  a  child  which 
had  been  dead  but  a  few  hours  was  there.  I  have  been 
cozened,  and  to  rights." 

He  stood  like  a  guilty  man,  with  bowed  head,  and 
Hepworth,  even  Capell,  felt  a  sudden  pity  for  him.    The 

227 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

latter  was  about  to  speak,  when  Cromwell,  whose  face 
was  very  stern,  broke  in. 

"  Wait;  I  have  not  done  yet.  Sweetlove  was  with  thee. 
What  was  he  about?  " 

Ralph  winced,  but  raised  his  head  in  quick  reply. 

"  Blame  not  him,  sir.  He  would  have  searched  the 
room,  he  pressed  me  afterwards,  but  I  laid  strict  orders 
upon  him  not  to  enter.    The  fault  was  mine,  mine  only." 

Cromwell  nodded  in  stony  acquiescence. 

"  What  possessed  thee?  "  he  said  after  a  pause.  "  What 
spell  was  thrown  upon  thee?  Didst  meet  a  friend  of 
thy  younger  days?    Ye  have  so  many  friends." 

The  shot  went  home,  and  again  Capell  smiled  his 
quiet,  malicious  smile.     Ralph  blushed  scarlet. 

"  Who  was  it,  then?  "  Cromwell  continued.  "Another 
of  Rupert's  roysterers?  " 

"  A  man  who  was  once  as  a  father  to  me,"  Ralph 
answered,  "  one  Doctor  Taunton,  of  London." 

"Taunton  the  chirurgeon? "  cried  Isaac  Hepworth, 
breaking  in.  "  A  Papist  of  Papists,  Cromwell,  a  familiar 
to  the  queen  Jezebel  herself.  God  preserve  us,  this  is  a 
blacker  business  than  ever  we  suspected." 

Cromwell  frowned,  and  turned  once  more  to  Ralph. 
"  What  did  you  think  this  man  could  be  about  in  a 
well-affected  house?  " 

"  He  said  he  had  been  dealing  with  the  sickness  of 
the  boy." 

"  You  believed  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Go  on,  then;  tell  me  all." 

"  He  was  in  authority,  and  kept  us  company,  opening 
all  doors  freely.  Indeed,"  Ralph  went  on  doggedly,  "  he 
would  have  led  us  into  Madam  Brampton's  chamber  had 
I  not  refused  to  enter.  So  understand  that  even  he, 
malignant  and  Papist  though  he  be,  is  not  to  blame." 

"  Were  you  aware  of  his  malignancy?  " 

"  Yes." 

228 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Still  you  believed  his  word?" 

"  In  that  particular." 

"  What  would  he  not  believe,"  muttered  Capell,  as  if 
to  himself,  "  if  a  malignant  told  the  tale?  " 

Cromwell  was  silent  a  moment;  then  he  said  with 
sharp  decision,  "  Leave  us,  Dangerfield.  I  will  see  thee 
in  thy  chamber  later." 

Ralph  obeyed,  and  without  looking  to  right  or  left 
walked  down  the  dark,  narrow  passage  which  led  from 
the  library  to  the  hall.  His  tread  was  heavy  and  uncer- 
tain. He  felt  as  if  he  had  been  severely  beaten.  He  was 
crushed  and  sore  in  body  as  well  as  mind,  and  nearly 
mad  with  self-reproach  and  shame.  At  the  moment  he 
had  only  one  wish  —  to  reach  his  room  without  meeting 
anyone,  and  there  make  plans  for  a  speedy  departure, 
unless,  indeed,  Cromwell  wished  to  place  him  under 
arrest  as  a  delinquent,  a  Royalist  sympathiser,  a  lax, 
unworthy  officer.  To  be  alone,  alone  —  it  was  that  he 
craved,  and  when,  turning  the  corner,  he  came  suddenly 
upon  Rachel,  standing  before  the  great  hall  fire,  he 
started  violently,  and  tried  to  pass  her  by.  But  at  his 
step  she  raised  her  head  and  came  towards  him. 

"  You  have  returned?  But  what  is  this?  Are  you 
wounded  or  sick?    You  are  deathly  pale." 

Ralph  tried  to  smile. 

"  Only  wet  and  cold,  dear  madam.  'Tis  stormy 
weather  without.  Hearken  to  the  wind.  I  am  going 
to  my  chamber  to  change  my  clothing." 

But  Rachel  did  not  listen  to  the  wind. 

"  You  are  in  trouble,  sir,"  was  all  she  said.  "  May  I 
know  it?  " 

Ralph  stood  before  her  astonished.  This  face,  flushed, 
but  determined,  was  not  the  gentle  one  he  knew;  even 
her  tone  was  different.  The  reserved  girl,  with  her  sweet 
voice  and  retiring  ways,  had  become  suddenly  trans- 
formed into  a  strong  and  earnest  woman.  Her  tone  was 
almost  a  command,  and,  as  if  in  response,  his  own  mood 

229 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

changed  and  he  craved  for  her  sympathy.  He  looked 
round.  The  household  were  busy  elsewhere.  They  were 
alone.  He  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  clasping  hers  as 
if  she  were  a  sister,  told  her  everything.  He  did  not  try 
to  screen  himself;  he  made  no  accusation  against  Capell. 
He  simply  described  what  had  passed,  taking  for  granted 
that  this  was  what  she  wished  to  know.  Rachel  listened 
with  quickening  pulse  and  angry  eyes.  It  was  natural 
zhe  should  see  it  from  a  woman's  point  of  view,  and  not 
a  soldier's,  and  that  the  tenderness  and  sincerity  of  him 
who  blamed  himself  should  be  uppermost  in  her  mind 
rather  than  his  rashness  and  lack  of  self-control.  At  the 
end,  when  he  said  sadly,  "  What  think  you  of  me  now?  " 
she  could  not  trust  herself  to  speak,  but  turned  away  and 
pushed  and  poked  the  burning  logs.  When  she  rose 
from  the  fire  her  face  was  bright  and  animated. 

"  I  would  rather  say  what  I  think  of  the  lieutenant," 
she  answered.  "  My  guardian  at  present  hath  only  heard 
one  side.  But  this  Master  Capell  hath  wronged  you 
sorely.  I  can  find  no  excuse  for  him.  He  knew  your 
kind  heart  and  your  chivalry.  He  played  upon  these 
things  for  a  foul  purpose.  I  would  I  might  never  see  his 
face  again.  His  purpose  is  clear  indeed.  He  would 
push  you  out  from  this  house,  from  the  troop,  and  above 
all  from  your  captain's  favour.  But  he  will  not  prevail, 
for  you  will  endure  him  and  stand  your  ground." 

She  gazed  at  him  with  parted  lips  and  eyes  aglow, 
and  Ralph's  heart  beat  so  fast  that  he  could  scarcely 
answer  her.  Yet  he  was  not  so  much  in  love  but  that 
he  felt  she  asked  too  much. 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  think  so,  fair  friend.  How  can  I 
stay?  Nay,  even  if  I  could  bear  the  jeers  of  all  my  men 
and  the  continued  rule  of  one  who  hath  so  shrewdly 
rolled  me  in  the  mire,  would  the  captain  trust  me?  It 
is  not  possible.  I  have  been  tried  and  found  wanting,  and 
with  Cromwell,  if  I  judge  him  aright,  that  is  the  end.  He 
will  dismiss  me." 

230 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Rachel  smiled  a  quaint  smile  of  confidence. 

*'  I  do  not  think  so.  But  will  you  promise  me  —  for 
I  can  hear  we  shall  be  interrupted — that  naught  but  such 
dismissal  shall  make  you  leave  the  troop?  Will  you  give 
your  word  upon  it?" 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  Ralph  bent  and  kissed  it 
before  he  answered: — 

"  I  promise." 

An  instant  later  Capell  came  into  the  hall.  All  he  saw 
was  Rachel  gazing  at  the  fire;  but  he  heard  a  step  on  the 
stairway,  and  knew  whose  step  it  was. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

RALPH  had  made  a  promise,  and  he  was  one  who 
prided  himself  upon  keeping  his  word.  Moreover, 
he  had  made  that  promise  to  Rachel,  Yet  alone  in  his 
chamber,  with  time  and  opportunity  to  think,  the  diffi- 
culty of  carrying  out  what  he  had  promised  seemed 
almost  insuperable.  What  a  fool  he  had  been  all  these 
months!  In  the  light  of  Capell's  explanation,  he  had 
been  inconceivably  weak  and  credulous.  And  how  his 
want  of  toughness  and  strength  threw  into  relief  Capell's 
shrewdness  and  success.  It  had  been  a  struggle  from 
the  first  which  of  them  should  win  Cromwell's  confidence. 
The  struggle  was  over,  and  he  was  beaten.  What  would 
it  matter  to  Cromwell,  Ralph  reflected  bitterly,  that 
Capell  had  laid  traps  and  dug  pit-falls?  Capell  could  fight; 
he  could  command  men  though  he  was  not  loved  by  them. 
If  he  did  not  take  the  same  interest  in  the  art  of  drilling 
and  manoeuvring  of  the  troop  as  himself,  that  was  only 
because  for  the  present  the  man's  thoughts  were  other- 
wise engaged.  Ralph  Dangerfield  once  dismissed  and 
a  suitable  cornet  appointed  in  his  place,  Capell  would 
turn  his  attention  to  his  military  duties,  and  under  Crom- 
well's eye,  make  the  troopers  efficient  soldiers,  as  easily 
as  he  had  made  them  efficient  sleuth-hounds.  How,  then, 
could  he,  Ralph,  after  all  that  had  passed,  expect  to  retain 
his  present  position?  Capell  would  insist,  and  reason- 
ably, upon  his  dismissal. 

So  Ralph  the  soldier  reasoned,  while  Ralph  the  man 
raged  at  the  injustice  he  had  suffered.  It  was  as  clear 
to  him  now  as  to  Rachel  that  Capell  had  been  for  a  long 
time  determined  to  oust  him  from  the  troop,  and  that 

232 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

this  blow  was  but  one  of  many,  the  heaviest  and  the  last. 

"  I  told  them  'twas  cowardly  to  send  me  to  the 
Grange,"  he  muttered,  pacing  the  room  faster  than  ever; 
"  but,  my  faith,  he  deserves  a  worse  word  now.  Could 
we  but  meet  with  the  sword?  Yet  that  would  be  as  unfair 
the  other  way.  I'd  pink  him  blindfold  before  he  had  time 
to  raise  his  heavy  eyes,  and  I'd  love  to  do  it.  As  it  is, 
I  shall  have  to  go  and  leave  him  master.  If  Cromwell 
will  give  me  one  more  opportunity!  But  that  he  will  not 
do.  His  face  was  hard  as  stone.  Once  deceived  in  men, 
he  neither  forgets  nor  forgives." 

A  knock  came  at  the  door.  "  Master  Dangerfield," 
cried  Betty's  voice,  "  prithee,  come  to  supper.  Father 
has  sent  me  and  charged  me  to  wait  for  you.  I  know 
not  why,  unless  he  thought  you'd  be  asleep,"  and  a 
smothered  giggle  followed.  Ralph  listened  in  surprise. 
Not  only  had  such  a  summons  been  the  last  he  expected 
to  receive,  but  the  child's  tone  was  the  old  merry  one. 
She  spoke  like  the  Betty  of  former  times.  Hastily  chang- 
ing his  doublet  and  hose,  he  joined  her  in  the  passage. 
Betty  was  in  the  highest  spirits,  and  danced  on  tiptoe  all 
the  way  downstairs. 

"  We  have  heard  from  Oliver  to-day.  Did  you  know 
it?  Such  news!  He's  a  lieutenant;  think  of  that!  Oh, 
we're  so  proud!  Father  pretends  to  be  sorry,  saying  he 
will  but  spend  more  money  on  his  dress  and  be  no  better 
soldier;  but  he  is  really  as  pleased  as  any  one  of  us,  for 
I  caught  a  glance  of  his  eye  to  my  grandmother  just 
as  I  left  the  table." 

"  Is  Madam  Cromwell  present  at  supper  this  evening?  " 
Ralph  asked  in  so  abrupt  a  tone  that  Betty  looked  up 
startled. 

"  She  be  indeed.  It  is  father's  first  meal  since  his 
home-coming." 

"Ah!  I  had  forgotten,"  he  muttered,  and  Betty  heard 
him  sigh.  The  next  moment  a  hand  was  slipped  into 
his,  and  she  whispered: — 

233 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"What  ails  you,  Ralph?  I  should  not  call  you  so, 
because  mother  told  me  not;  but  I  will  this  once.  You 
look  so  thin  and  white,  and  your  eyes  are  as  fierce  as 
when  I  saw  you  first.  Hath  anyone  been  speaking  ill 
to  you?  The  lieutenant,  perchance.  If  he  hath  I  will 
tell  father,  and  he  will  punish  him." 

Ralph  pressed  the  little  hand. 

"Punish  me,  Betty,  rather;  I  am  in  fault." 

"  I'll  not  believe  it,"  quoth  the  child  stoutly,  "  not 
unless  father  says  so;  and  that  he  never  will,  for  he  loves 
you.  He  does,"  as  Ralph  involuntarily  shook  his  head, 
"  I  know  it,"  she  added  with  a  little  stamp  of  her  foot, 
"  and  what  I  know  I  know." 

They  entered  the  supper  room,  and  Ralph,  seeing  that 
everyone  was  present,  felt  like  a  prisoner  sitting  down 
to  break  bread  with  the  court-martial  that  has  just  con- 
demned him.  But  his  pride  came  to  his  aid,  and  he 
slipped  quietly  in  the  place  which  had  been  left  vacant 
for  him,  between  Madam   Cromwell  and  Rachel. 

"It  is  the  last  time,"  he  thought;  "that  is  why  they 
do  it." 

There  was  not  much  conversation  during  the  meal. 
Ralph  glanced  once  at  Cromwell  and  met  a  look  so 
stern  that  every  mouthful  he  tried  to  eat  afterwards 
almost  choked  him.  Yet  he  was  obliged  to  talk,  for 
Madam  Cromwell  asked  him  many  questions.  She  was 
so  gracious  and  so  kindly  that  but  for  the  cloud  upon 
her  son's  face  Ralph  might  even  have  taken  heart  of 
grace  and  tried  to  be  cheerful  too.  When  they  rose 
from  the  table  Cromwell  beckoned  silently  to  him,  and 
leaving  the  others,  they  went  into  the  study. 

"  Now,"  said  Cromwell,  standing  where  he  stood  when 
he  told  Hepworth  that  Ralph  was  to  be  cornet  in  the 
troop,  "what  have  ye  to  say?    Tell  me  briefly." 

Ralph  looked  perplexed. 

"  I  mean,"  Cromwell  added  in  deepening  tones, 
*'  touching  your  lieutenant.    What  hath  he  said  or  done 

234 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

that  is  amiss?  I  have  heard  his  side  of  it;  I  have  seen 
you  together,    I  wish  now  to  hear  your  tale." 

Ralph  considered  a  moment  before  he  answered.  He 
might  now  tell  in  detail  all  that  he  had  suffered  at  Capell's 
hands.  Cromwell  would  listen,  weigh,  and  judge  fairly. 
It  would  be  one  way  of  keeping  his  word  to  Rachel,  prob- 
ably the  only  way.  And  yet  it  was  telling  tales  of  his 
superior  officer  behind  his  back,  blackening  the  character 
of  a  man  to  serve  his  own  purpose.  No,  he  could  not 
do  it. 

"  I  have  naught  to  tell,"  he  blurted  out  at  last.  "  If 
you  question  me  I  must  answer;  else  I'll  be  silent." 

"  I  wish  your  judgment  of  the  man." 

"  Twould  be  of  little  worth." 

"  I  want  it,  I  say." 

"  I  will  not  give  it." 

"Why  then?" 

"  He  is  my  enemy." 

"That  is  enough.    Tell  me  why  and  wherefore." 

"  I  know  not  why,  but  it  is  so.  Since  Edge  Hill  in  all 
ways  he  hath  found  me  blameworthy." 

"  That  is  his  zeal  for  the  cause,  or  thy  soul's  welfare. 
Well?" 

"  My  religion  is  such  an  abomination  in  his  eyes  that 
he  can  see  nothing  well-favoured  in  me." 

"  It  is  so  in  mine,  yet  have  I  trusted  thee.  What 
more?" 

"  My  presence  in  the  troop  is  hateful  to  him.  Above 
all,  he'd  thrust  me  from  you." 

"Why?" 

"  I  do  not  know.    But  that  it  is  so  I  am  confident." 

"Tut,  tut!"  Cromwell  ejaculated  impatiently.  "So 
were  you  of  the  tale  told  by  the  malignant  doctor,  and  a 
dozen  other  cozening  lies  which  have  brought  this  trouble 
upon  ye.  But  no  more.  Would  you  make  him  out  a 
treacherous  knave,  then,  scheming  only  for  thy  undoing 
to  serve  some  selfish  end?    Answer  me  that." 

235 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Ralph  flushed  and  shut  his  teeth. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  he  said. 

Cromweh  watched  him  with  cold  and  unsympathetic 
eyes,  his  heavy  under-lip  thrust  forward,  a  dour,  relent- 
less face. 

"  I  will  tell  thee,"  he  said  slowly,  "  something  which 
thou  hadst  better  hold  within  thy  mind  when  thou 
thinkest  of  Capell.  I  know,  as  well  as  thou  dost,  that 
he  be  not  tender  of  the  feelings  or  the  pride  of  other 
men.  None  have  considered  him.  He  knoweth  not 
what  it  means.  He  is  a  Puritan  and  a  Presbyterian  of 
the  strictest  school.  These  things,  with  thine  infirmity 
of  temper,  lack  of  patience,  and  hot,  unreasoning  impulse, 
are  enough  to  account  for  all  that  he  hath  done.  And 
now,  mark  me  well,  he  hath  been  justified  for  every 
word  he  spake  over  this  affair  at  Milton.  A  messenger 
hath  come  in  bringing  word  from  Reuben,  who  returned 
thither  with  fresh  men,  that  the  treasure,  arms  and  pro- 
visions as  described,  are  in  their  hands.  There  hath,  how- 
ever, been  one  miscarriage.  Your  friend,  the  Papist, 
hath  escaped  —  a  mercy  for  him,"  Cromwell  added  drily, 
"  unless,  indeed,  they  catch  him  yet.  Our  quartermaster 
is  a  hard  man  to  deal  with  when  he  hath  been  outwitted, 
a  little  cruel,  I  have  heard.    He  learnt  it  oversea." 

"What  would  he  do?"  Ralph  exclaimed. 

"  Nay,  you  know  best.  I  have  been  told  that  in  Hol- 
land it  is  the  custom  to  draw  a  knotted  bow-string  above 
the  eyes  when  there  is  contumacy,  and  twist  it  twice  or 
thrice.    At  times  they  gouge  an  eye,  or  both." 

"What!  Such  an  outrage  upon  one  who  hath  not 
borne  arms,  and  is  an  old  man?  By  the  Lord,  Fd  crack 
the  skull  of  any  man,  quartermaster  or  lieutenant,  who 
even  made  threat  of  such  a  thing.  But  you  are  playing 
with  me,  sir." 

"  That  is  not  my  way.  I  know  men  in  our  army  who 
would  do  it  to  their  own  brother  an'  he  were  caught 
playing  such  a  trick  as  your  doctor.    You  have  much  to 

236 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

learn,  Master  Cornet,  if  you  think  all  godly  people  are 
as  soft-hearted  as  yourself.  But  this  brings  me  to  a 
point,"  pausing  an  instant,  and  changing  his  tone  to  one 
of  grave  reproach  and  sadness.  "  Thyself,  what  is  to  be 
said,  what  is  to  be  done,  touching  thyself?  " 

They  were  face  to  face,  and  Ralph's  eyes  fell  before 
his  captain's  glance.    The  heat  in  his  blood  died  away. 

"  I  have  blundered,"  he  muttered ;  *'  I  have  been  sorely 
fooled.  And  to-day  —  to-day  —  it  hath  been  worst  of  all. 
Yet,  sir,"  raising  his  head,  "  I  do  not  call  this  war.  I 
learnt  nothing  of  this  —  this  harrying  of  homesteads  in 
my  two  years  abroad.  Did  you  find  me  in  the  rear  at 
Edge  Hill  fight?  Oh,  were  I  in  the  field  I'd  make  them 
tell  a  different  tale!" 

"  Which  is  but  to  say,"  Cromwell  rejoined  stonily, 
"  that,  having  teeth,  you'd  keep  them  sharp  on  flesh.  A 
dog  could  say  as  much.  Enough;  I  ask  for  no  excuses. 
I  am  sorry  for  it;  God  knows  that.  When  I  first  saw 
you  I  read  strength  of  will  and  purpose  in  your  face.  Thy 
father's  death  "  —  he  spoke  now  with  peculiar  distinct- 
ness —  "  his  cruel  persecution  and  bitter  sufferings,  had, 
I  thought,  bred  in  thee  a  maturity  of  mind,  a  steadiness 
of  purpose,  that  would  be  proof  against  the  weakness  and 
hasty  impulses  to  which  thy  nature  is  so  prone.  Brave  I 
knew  thou  wert,  and  with  some  military  knowledge.  I 
was  not  mistaken  there.  But,  for  the  rest,  I  find  thee 
thin-skinned,  proud  when  thou  shouldst  be  humble,  soft- 
fingered  when  thy  grip  should  be  of  iron,  flinching  at 
pin-pricks  to  thy  dignity  when  thy  mind  should  be  fixed 
upon  thy  country's  wrongs.  Truly,  Ralph,  thou  art  not 
worthy  of  thy  forbears.  Thy  father,  with  his  infinite 
patience  —  where  be  thine?  Thy  grandfather,  the  grim 
old  Ralph  —  was  it  thus  he  dealt  with  the  Spaniards  on 
the  main?  Think  not  it  is  through  the  business  of  to-day 
that  I  lay  all  this  upon  thy  shoulders.  I  have  watched 
thee.  Thou  art  weak  just  where  I'd  have  thee  strong.  I 
blame  thee  not  for  thy  soft  heart.     But  only  women  i' 

237 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

these  times  may  listen  to  their  hearts.  We  must  be  steel 
until  our  country's  free,  steel  that  may  bend,  but  never 
break.  Thou'rt  not  that  yet.  And  proof  of  this  hath 
come  at  a  time  when  I  need  thee  most.  Yesterday  I  was 
made  a  colonel,  and  commissioned  to  raise  a  regiment 
of  horse.  Money  hath  been  placed  in  my  hands  and  more 
promised.  In  three  months  we  should  take  the  field,  and 
there  are  six  hundred  men  to  be  enrolled,  armed,  horsed, 
drilled.  I  have  work  here  for  a  score  such  as  you  and 
your  lieutenant.  But  though  I  needed  ten  score,  I'd  not 
take  one  on  whom  I  could  not  depend.  Capell  must  now 
have  his  troop.  And  you?  Believe  me,  boy"  —  his 
voice  had  changed  again;  it  was  earnest,  almost  tremu- 
lous —  "I  would  be  just,  aye  more  than  just,  to  thee. 
But  what  can  I  do  but  tell  thee  to  be  gone?  An'  I  loved 
thee  as  my  first-begotten  son  that  is  in  heaven,  what 
could  I  do,  when,  in  striving  for  the  godly  cause,  thou 
hast  but  half  a  heart,  the  rest  being  given  to  thy  malig- 
nant friends?" 

He  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room  in  short, 
quick  jerks.  Suddenly  he  stopped  and  looked  into 
Ralph's  face  with  a  question  in  voice  and  attitude  that 
wrung  his  heart.  A  moment  before  Ralph  had  been 
white  and  speechless  with  anger  and  outraged  feeling. 
Now  he  only  said  hoarsely: — 

"  That  be  not  true  —  and  yet  it  is.  For  though  I  fight 
and  would  die  if  need  were  on  the  Parliament  side,  it  is 
because  you  are  there.  You  misjudge  me,  and  cruelly. 
But  I  complain  not.  I  bow  to  it  all,  for  it  cometh  from 
your  lips.  Had  another  man  said  it,  I  swear  to  God  I 
had  struck  him  down,  but  you  —  there,  I  cannot  speak. 
Do  as  you  will;  put  me  to  any  work.  I  am  yours,  only 
put  me  to  the  proof  once  more." 

Cromwell's  face  set  into  its  grimmest  lines. 

"Any  work?"  he  said  slowly.  "Hunting  for  arms 
under  Capell?" 

"  As  you  judge  best.    I'll  do  it." 
238 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Nay,"  was  the  rejoinder  in  a  kinder  tone,  "  I  could 
not,  lad.  Thou  and  I  must  part.  Serve  my  cousin,  John 
Hampden.  He  will  suit  thee  better;  I  am  too  rough. 
To-morrow  I  will  give  thee  a  letter " 

"  I  shall  tear  it  up." 

"  I  repeat,"  he  said  sternly,  "  I  will  give  thee  a  line 
from  my  hand  which  thou  canst  read  thyself " 

"  And  I  repeat  to  you,"  Ralph  answered,  "  I  will  tear 
it  up." 

"  Wouldst  defy  me?    Nay,  this  passes  patience." 

"Defy  you?  Aye,"  Ralph  cried,  "so  far  as  this  —  I 
will  serve  no  other  man.  Dismiss  me  if  you're  tired  of 
my  poor  service.  But  I  will  not  go  to  Hampden.  I  have 
a  little  money,  enough  to  take  me  where  I  choose  to  be. 
That  may  be  far  or  near  —  I  say  not  where.  But  if  not 
in  your  service  I'll  be  in  no  other.  Keep  me  at  your  side, 
and  if  it  be  but  to  groom  horses  or  clean  armour  I  will 
do  your  bidding.  Now,  tell  me  your  decision;  I  have 
nothing  more  to  say." 

They  were  close  together  now.  Cromwell  raised  his 
hand,  paused  an  instant,  then  let  it  fall  upon  Ralph's 
shoulder. 

"  Boy,  boy,"  he  said  huskily,  "  I  should  drive  thee  from 
my  presence.  I  should,  but  I  cannot.  God  is  my  wit- 
ness —  I  cannot.  Stay,  then ;  the  troop  will  not  be  sorry, 
and  I  —  well  —  I  loved  thy  father  dear,  and,  with  all  thy 
faults,  thou  art  thy  father's  son." 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

CROMWELL  had  promised  to  tell  his  mother  before 
she  slept  that  night  the  result  of  his  talk  with 
Ralph.  He  had  warned  her  that  the  friction  between 
his  subalterns  was  too  acute  for  compromise,  and 
that  Ralph  had  been  in  the  wrong  from  the  beginning; 
but  he  had  spared  her  particulars  and  said  little 
or  nothing  of  Capell,  for  he  knew  that  Madam 
Cromwell  was  not  one  of  the  lieutenant's  admirers. 
He  had  now  to  tell  her  that  Ralph  was  not  to  leave 
them.  His  plans  were  already  made  to  prevent 
further  disagreements:  Capell  should  have  a  troop, 
Ralph  retain  his  cornetcy,  and  if  he  were  zealous  and 
sensible  be  promoted  before  they  took  the  field.  Crom- 
well made  up  his  mind  upon  these  points  just  as  he 
reached  his  mother's  door,  and  had  opened  it,  after  one 
sharp  knock,  before  he  heard  from  within  the  sound  of 
heavy  sobs.  At  Madam  Cromwell's  feet  knelt  Rachel, 
her  face  buried  in  her  hands,  crying  as  though  her  heart 
would  break.  Cromwell  drew  back  and  looked  inquir- 
ingly at  his  mother,  but  she  nodded,  and  he  came  in. 

"  God  be  praised!  "  she  cried  fervently.  "  Surely,  son. 
He  hath  sent  thee  in  answer  to  our  prayers.  We  need 
thee  sore.  Hush,  childie,"  to  Rachel,  "  calm  thyself,  and 
tell  thy  guardian  —  thy  true  guardian  —  all  thou  hast 
told  me." 

The  sobs  ceased,  and  Rachel  rose  to  her  feet;  but  she 
shook  her  head  at  the  proposal  with  a  shrinking  negative. 

The  old  lady  added  quickly,  "Thou  dost  not  wish  it? 
Well,  let  me  speak  first.  Run  to  thy  chamber  for  a  few 
minutes;  but  see  thou  returnest  in  a  short  space.  This 
matter  shall  not  rest  here." 

240 


CROAIWELL'S  OWN 

She  drew  the  girl  towards  her  and  kissed  her  on  the 
forehead.     Rachel  fled. 

"  'Tis  the  minister,"  Madam  Cromwell  exclaimed. 
"  Truly,  son,  thou  wilt  have  to  take  him  between  thy 
fingers  once  again  and  make  him  feel  thy  strength.  This 
evening,  after  you  took  Ralph  away,  the  man  pounced 
upon  Rachel  like  cat  upon  a  bird,  led  her  to  his  chamber, 
and  there  burst  forth  with  abuse  and  railing  which  would 
disgrace  thy  corporal.  He  called  her  *  hussy,'  '  Jezebel,' 
and  the  Lord  knows  what  —  she  would  not  tell  me  all  — 
frothing  at  the  mouth  like  a  wild  beast.  He  impugned 
her  modesty,  and  all  but  called  her  virtue  into  question. 
And  for  why,  think  you?  Because  he  heard  in  some 
manner  that  she  conversed  alone  with  Ralph  this  after- 
noon. This  news,  it  seems,  had  angered  him  to  such 
degree  that  he  had  only  waited  until  they  were  alone  to 
condemn  the  lad  in  furious  terms  and  forbid  Rachel  to 
speak  to  him  again.  Was  ever  such  a  fool?  He  thought 
in  his  blind  ignorance  that  she  would  cower  at  his  revil- 
ings  like  some  dumb  animal.  But  she  did  not.  She 
endured  it,  she  tells  me,  for  a  little  space ;  then  she  with- 
stood him  boldly,  called  his  evidence  in  question,  even 
asked  plainly  where  and  from  whom  he  had  learnt  such 
things.  Thereupon,  as  I  have  said,  he  drove  his  teeth 
into  her  tender  flesh  and  left  poison  in  the  wound.  It 
maketh  my  blood  hot  to  think  what  she  hath  suffered. 
An  that  man  cometh  within  my  reach  he  shall  hear  what 
he  hath  never  heard  from  a  woman's  lips  before." 

The  old  lady  said  the  last  words  slowly  between  her 
teeth. 

Cromwell  looked  at  her  anxiously,  for  she  had  risen 
to  her  feet  and  was  trembling  all  over. 

"  Sit  you  down  again,  mother,"  he  said  tenderly. 
"  Nay,  disturb  not  yourself  for  this  nor  anything.  Leave 
all  to  me.  Be  sure  Rachel  shall  receive  just  treatment 
in  the  end.  But  we  must  be  discreet,  nor  must  we  hurry 
lest  we  trip.    There  is  more  behind  this  than  we  know 


i6 


241 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

as  yet.  What  speech  did  Rachel  and  Ralph  have  with 
one  another?    Know  you  when  it  was?  " 

"  After  his  return  from  Milton.  A  few  words  touch- 
ing that  incident  and  its  consequences." 

"  A  few  words  only?  " 

"  For  certain  but  a  few,  for  Rachel  told  me  all,  words 
any  friend  might  say  to  another  with  the  whole  world  to 
listen." 

"  Give  me  their  sense." 

"  He  passed  her  in  the  hall.  She  asked  the  reason  of 
his  woeful  countenance,  and  he  told  her  that  he  had  been 
betrayed;  he  did  not  try  to  screen  himself.  Then  she 
counselled  patience,  and  urged  him  to  await  your  after- 
judgment.  He  promised  this  —  promised  he  would  not 
go  unless  you  gave  him  his  dismissal." 

Cromwell  coughed. 

"He  promised  that?  Then  it  explains  —  but  tell  me 
all." 

"  There  is  no  more.  He  was  in  too  much  sorrow  to 
be  gallant  had  it  been  his  nature.  Aye,  an'  if  he  had 
attempted  it,"  her  voice  rising  again  in  its  indignation, 
"  does  anyone  who  knoweth  our  Rachel  think  she'd  per- 
mit familiarities?    That  minister  is  mad!  " 

"  A  bag  of  nerves,"  Cromwell  said  with  quiet  scorn. 
"  He  hath  good  intentions,  an  eloquence  of  preaching, 
and  much  earnestness  for  the  godly  cause,  but  his  is  an 
acrid  temper  and  a  narrow  mind.  We  have  too  many 
such.  Yet,  Parliament  thinks  there  be  no  minister  to 
compare  with  Hepworth.  He  hath  more  friends  there 
than  I.  If  he  again  demand  the  custody  of  Rachel  I  shall 
have  little  power  to  prevent  it.  He  is  her  blood  relation. 
Her  spiritual  welfare,  all  will  say,  must  be  in  danger 
now  Ralph  hath  declared  his  heresy.  Should  the  min- 
ister on  such  plea  make  application  to  Parliament  for 
authority  to  control  her  movements,  I  know  not  what 
answer  I  could  make.    We  must  be  wary,  mother,  and 


242 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

keep  onr  anger  within  bounds.  First,  tell  me  this:  What 
will  be  the  posture  of  the  girl  after  his  words?" 

"  'Deed,  you  put  me  a  hard  question,  son,"  the  old  lady- 
rejoined,  hurt  at  his  coolness.  "  Were  Rachel  such  a 
wench  as  I  was  at  her  age,  she'd  be  over  head  and  ears 
in  love  with  Ralph,  aye,  though  he  were  as  graceless  a 
heretic  as  her  uncle  calls  him.  Oh,  a  fool,  I  say!  Is  it 
not  the  surest  way  to  breed  love  in  a  woman's  heart  to 
abuse,  behind  his  back,  a  man  already  in  sorer  straits 
than  he  deserves?  But  how  it  will  turn  with  Rachel  I 
know  not.  There  is  your  Oliver.  Saw  you  how  bright 
she  looked  when  his  promotion  was  read  out?  The 
advantage  lies  with  him  still,  for  when  a  woman  knoweth 
that  a  man  looketh  longingly  toward  her,  burning  with 
true  love,  she  is  for  ever  brooding  on  it,  thinking.  '  Shall 
I  —  dare  I  —  take  it?'  Other  men  stand  on  a  dififerent 
level  to  her  mind.  Yet  this  minister's  foolish  tongue 
may  have  gone  far  to  carry  Ralph  forward.  Ideas  have 
been  planted  in  her  pure  soul  which  can  never  leave  it, 
though  the  fruit  that  cometh  from  them  may  be  picked 
by  Oliver,  not  Ralph.  We  cannot  know,  we  never  shall, 
until  it  be  too  late.  I  know  this:  the  child  will  suffer 
sadly,  and  it  will  be  a  bitter  pain  for  her  even  to  see 
Ralph's  face  after  her  uncle's  words." 

"  Then  she  shall  not  see  it,"  Cromwell  said  with  empha- 
sis.    "  He  shall  leave  us." 

His  mother  smiled  and  raised  a  warning  finger. 

"Nay,  Nay!  Good  lack,  fair  son,  wouldst  thou,  too, 
run  thy  head  into  the  very  snare  thou  shouldst  most  care- 
fully avoid?  Not  see  him!  Why,  then  she  would  think 
of  him  both  day  and  night.  Nay,  that  would  be  fatal. 
Better  that  she  speak  with  him  every  day  until  thy  regi- 
ment be  ready  to  depart.  But  thou  hast  not  told  me 
what  was  the  upshot  of  thy  talk.     Be  the  lad  to  go?  " 

"  I  had  decided  not,  so  absolutely  did  he  seem  to  desire 
to  serve  me.  This,  I  will  own,  touched  me  not  a  little. 
Now  " —  he  gave  a  short  laugh  — "  I  spy  another  motive." 

243 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Nay,  have  a  care,  my  dear,"  Madam  Cromwell  inter- 
posed, "  lest  you  misjudge.  The  lad's  love  for  you  is 
deep  and  pure.  As  for  Rachel,  until  this  afternoon  she 
hath  not  met  him,  except  in  thy  lieutenant's  presence, 
since  ye  all  returned  from  Edge  Hill  fight.  Of  that  I  am 
confident.  This  foolish  minister  hath  been  crazed  by 
some  evil  tongue." 

A  suspicion  darted  through  Cromwell's  mind,  and -he 
knit  his  brows. 

"  That  may  be  so,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Yet  if  the  min- 
ister should  make  good  his  reason  for  insisting  that 
Ralph  depart,  what  am  I  to  answer?" 

"  That  you  will  make  due  inquiry  before  giving  judg- 
ment.    'Tis  unlawful  to  condemn  anyone  unheard." 

Cromwell  considered  a  moment. 

"  The  principle  be  just,"  he  said,  musing,  "  and  applieth 
in  this  case  without  a  doubt.  Yet  the  boy  must  go 
sooner  or  later.  These  meetings  must  not  continue. 
Touching  Hepworth's  words  to  Rachel  —  ah!  here  she 
comes,  just  in  right  time.  Leave  me  to  talk  with  her, 
mother." 

He  kissed  the  girl  with  a  kindly,  fatherly  caress,  and 
leading  her  to  a  chair,  asked  her  to  describe  what  had 
passed,  assuring  her  by  a  kindly  word  or  two  of  his  sym- 
pathy and  confidence.  But  for  once  Cromwell  was  baf- 
fled. No  tears  were  in  Rachel's  eyes.  Her  manner  was 
as  quiet  as  usual,  though  she  was  rather  white.  She 
thanked  him  for  his  kindness  and  consideration,  but 
refused  absolutely  to  repeat  what  her  uncle  had  said,  or 
discuss  his  action  in  any  way.  That  he  had  startled  her 
she  admitted.  He  had  made  accusations  which  were 
totally  unfounded,  but  they  were  for  her  ears  alone.  She 
would  neither  repeat  his  words,  nor  question  his  right  to 
say  them  if  he  chose.  In  fact,  Rachel  made  it  clear  that 
though  she  had  told  Madam  Cromwell  a  great  deal  in  the 
first  shock  of  her  grief  and  pain,  she  had  not  told  her 


244 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

everything,  and  would  on  no  account  say  more,  or  appeal 
to  one  guardian  against  the  other. 

Cromwell  was  half  pleased,  half  annoyed,  at  this  sud- 
den reserve.  But  he  could  not  try  to  force  her  confi- 
dence, and  stopped  his  mother  promptly  when  she  would 
have  upbraided  Rachel  for  her  reticence. 

"I  must  away,"  he  said;  "farewell,  my  child.  Nay, 
mother,  reprove  her  not.  You  and  I  have  slept  while 
the  maid  hath  grown  into  a  woman.  That's  the  trouble. 
I  like  her  none  the  worse  in  that  she  can  keep  her 
counsel." 

He  saluted  his  mother  and  had  turned  to  go,  when 
Rachel  ran  to  him  and  took  his  hands  in  both  her  own. 

"  Be  sure,  dear  sir,  that  my  heart  is  full  of  gratitude, 
though  I  cannot  utter  it.  I  pray  to  God  to  preserve  and 
guard  you,  kindest,  noblest  of  my  friends.  I  will  do 
nothing,  either  now  or  at  any  time,  without  your  sanc- 
tion. And  —  and  I  would  ask  your  blessing.  I  need  it 
sorely." 

Cromwell's  eyes  softened.  He  took  her  in  his  arms 
and  laid  her  weary  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Child,  art  thou  not  my  very  dear  daughter,  dear  as 
my  own  flesh  and  blood?  Thou  must  know  that.  Then 
a  truce  to  thy  foolish  fears!  I  cannot  say  more.  Theu 
owest  a  duty  to  thine  uncle  —  a  pious  and  godly  man. 
But  mind  me,  Rachel,  thou  hast  been  hardly  used,"  with 
a  deepening  of  tone  that  made  Madam  Cromwell  smile, 
"  and  in  my  house  that  is  not  to  be  permitted.  You  ask 
not  for  my  protection.  You  are  one  of  those  who  can 
suffer  in  silence  and  murmur  not.  So  be  it,  then.  But 
let  them  that  despitefully  use  my  daughter  have  a  care! 
There  is  no  man  —  understand  no  man  —  that  shall  stand 
between  us  if  you  appeal  to  me.  Sleep  sound,  good 
daughter;  happy  dreams!" 

He  strode  away  after  kissing  her  again  with  a  look 
upon  his  face  that  made  his  mother  mutter  under  her 
breath: — 

245 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  An  the  minister  meet  him  now,  there  will  be  tribula- 
tion for  that  godly  man,  I  trust,  I  pray,  as  I  be  a  living 
woman,  that  he  do."  Then  aloud:  "  Rachel,  I  pray  you 
read  me  a  chapter  from  the  Book  of  Job.  My  mind  is 
something  feverish  to-night." 

In  the  library,  as  Cromwell  turned  into  the  passage, 
he  saw  a  light  burning,  and  a  tall,  slight  figure  standing 
by  the  table.  The  minister  was  waiting  for  him.  The 
expression  of  Cromwell's  face  changed  immediately. 
The  cloud  upon  it  gave  way  to  a  mask  of  cold  passivity. 
He  had  donned  his  armour  and  drawn  his  visor  down. 
Isaac  Hepworth  was  reading  from  a  pocket  Testament. 
At  Cromwell's  entrance  he  closed  it  with  a  vicious  snap, 
as  a  man  might  cock  a  pistol,  and  thrust  it  on  a  pocket 
of  his  gown. 

A  dignified  and  imposing  presence  was  the  minister's, 
changed  somewhat  since  we  saw  him  in  the  summer. 
His  grey  hair  was  now  a  snowy  white,  his  face  thin  and 
colourless  as  parchment,  and  seamed  with  lines  of 
thought  and  care,  but  his  eyes  were  as  bright  as  ever, 
and  his  bearing  haughtier  and  more  dignified  than  of  old. 
He  was  a  man  who  led  others  and  knew  it,  one  accus- 
tomed to  be  listened  to  with  respect  by  the  leaders  of  his 
party,  and  to  speak  with  authority  to  all.  Well  might 
Cromwell  tell  his  mother  that  matters  had  altered  since 
his  last  debate  with  the  minister  concerning  Rachel. 

It  was  the  end  of  December,  1642,  and  throughout 
England  men  were  strenuously  arming  for  or  against  the 
King.  The  result  of  Edge  Hill  had  quenched  all  hopes, 
indulged  in  by  so  many,  that  one  pitched  battle  would 
end  the  war.  King  Charles  was  in  Oxford,  surrounded 
by  a  brilliant  court,  unyielding  and  confident.  The  Earl 
of  Essex  had  fallen  back  upon  London,  where  Parliament 
still  met  and  held  the  reins  of  government. 

Hepworth  was  not  a  member  of  the  House,  but  he  was 
so  well  known  for  his  force  of  character,  intense  earnest- 
ness, and  boundless  energy  and  enthusiasm  that  he  had 

246 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

great  influence  there.  All  that  belonged  to  him  —  his 
money,  time,  and  strength  —  he  gave  without  stint  to 
the  cause.  He  had  written  and  printed  at  his  own 
expense  an  immense  number  of  pamphlets,  which  were 
distributed  broadcast  all  over  the  country,  impeaching 
the  divine  right  of  kings;  he  had  published  a  refutation 
of  Popery,  and  a  bitter,  not  to  say  ferocious,  attack  upon 
Arminianism,  Erastianism,  and  all  other  heresies,  all  of 
which  speedily  placed  him  in  the  front  rank  of  militant 
Presbyterian  divines.  From  the  pulpit  he  preached  sim- 
plicity of  life  for  rich  and  poor  alike,  passionately 
denouncing  the  worst  sins  of  the  age  —  profligacy  and 
drunkenness,  and  calling  upon  all  men  to  obey  any 
demand  from  Parliament  for  funds  or  service,  and  to 
resist  to  the  death  the  prelates  and  the  King.  And  so 
pithy  and  vigorous  were  his  pen  and  his  speech,  that 
what  he  wrote  was  eagerly  read,  and  his  preaching  drew 
immense  crowds. 

All  this,  as  we  have  seen,  Cromwell  knew.  He  knew 
also  that  the  stricter  Presbyterians,  of  whom  Hepworth 
was  a  leader  and  prophet,  were  gaining  power  by  leaps 
and  bounds.  It  was  a  time  when  people  craved  strong 
food  for  the  mind  and  the  emotions;  so  the  men  who 
lived  without  pleasure  or  ease,  who  called  all  religions 
other  than  their  own  damnable  heresies,  and  held  men  of 
other  parties  to  be  the  enemies  of  God,  were  coming  to 
the  front.  The  time  was  soon  to  come  when  these  Pres- 
byterians were  to  become  the  dominant  caste.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  "  godly  party "  was  not  as  yet  sure 
enough  of  its  strength  even  for  its  most  powerful  mem- 
bers to  push  their  authority  too  far. 

"  We  are  well  met,  reverend  friend,"  said  Cromwell 
courteously,  drawing  two  chairs  up  to  the  fire  and  set- 
tling himself  into  one.  "  Hast  waited  long?  I  trust  not. 
I  see  by  thy  face  that  thou  hast  something  on  thy  mind 
of  weighty  consideration ;  so,  indeed,  have  I.  But  speak 
thou  first.     What  can  it  be?  " 

247 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

The  minister  coughed.  He  had  meant  to  lead  Crom- 
well first  to  commit  himself  about  Ralph's  delinquencies 
before  clinching  the  argument  with  his  talk  with  Rachel. 
This  sharp  challenge  put  him  out. 

"  'Tis  a  matter  we  have  touched  upon  before,"  he  said 
"  which  I  trusted  would  never  again  appear." 

Cromwell  faced  round  with  an  air  of  surprise. 

"What  can  that  be?" 

"  Rachel,  my  ward." 

"  Oiir  ward,"  said  Cromwell  quietly.  "  Well,  what  of 
her?  I  trust  you  have  no  tidings  of  Oliver  that  should 
cause  you  to  repent  of  your  consent  to  his  addresses?" 

"  Nay,  nay,"  Hepworth  began  with  some  impatience. 

"The  Lord  be  thanked,"  Cromwell  interposed  sol- 
emnly. "  That  would  have  been  a  serious  blow.  What 
ails  the  girl?" 

"  Vanity,  strange  presumption,  a  spirit  over-proud,  and 
a  deceitful  heart,"  thundered  the  minister,  breaking  forth 
at  last.  "  Thou  hast  been  cozened,  Cromwell,  and  I  have 
been  undone.  Didst  not  swear  before  thy  Maker  that  if 
any  sign  of  love  became  manifest  between  her  and  this 
Socinian  cornet  of  thine,  thou  wouldst  part  them  as  with 
a  sword?  Those  were  thine  own  words.  I  trusted  thee, 
dolt  that  I  was,  and  left  the  child  within  thy  house.  How 
hath  my  faith  been  requited?  Daily,  nay  hourly,  all 
these  months  this  youth  hath  had  access  to  her.  Until 
Capell  arrived  she  acted,  forsooth,  as  thy  secretary,  and 
at  that  time,  in  thy  absence,  the  Socinian  even  opened 
letters  with  her,  to  which  she  wrote  replies  at  his  dicta- 
tion. Since,  she  hath  declared  a  friendship  for  him  under 
thine  own  eyes.  What  is  the  result?  Why,  this  —  that 
when  I,  standing  in  the  relation  of  a  parent  to  her,  and 
by  law  entitled  to  respect  and  obedience,  telled  her  the 
truth  concerning  this  youth — his  leaning  towards  malig- 
nancy, his  laxities  and  insubordinations  —  she  contra- 
dicted me  unto  my  face,  questioned  every  word  I  uttered 
and  with  a  warmth  of  language  I  never  heard  her  use 

248 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

before,  justified  him.  '  She  beheved  me  not,'  her  very 
words !  She  '  knew  another  side ' ;  he  was  '  too  brave 
to  oppress  women,'  *  too  generous  to  let  his  friend  the 
malignant  lord  be  a  victim  to  an  enemy,'  and  so  forth. 
Truly  my  mind  almost  refused  to  grasp  what  mine  ears 
had  heard.  I  could  not  believe  that  Rachel  stood  before 
me,  for  she  was  transformed  from  the  maiden  I  knew 
into  a  woman  that  defends  her  lover.  Oh,  she  loves  this 
viper  that  thou  wouldst  press  unto  thy  bosom  spite  all 
of  my  prayers.  Thou  wilt  part  with  him  now,  doubtless," 
he  went  on  with  bitter  scorn.  "  Thou  thoughtst  he 
would  be  a  useful  tool;  but  now  that  he  hath  turned  in 
thy  hands  and  wounded  thee,  thou  wilt  drop  him.  But 
let  me  tell  thee  it  is  too  late.  Harm  hath  been  adoing; 
seed  hath  been  sown  that  will  be  reaped  with  tears  of 
shame.  For  this  youth  is  no  mere  youngster  to  be 
frighted  or  brow-beaten.  He  hath  courage  and  deter- 
mination, and  he  knows  his  power  with  her.  And  for 
all  this  thou,  and  thou  alone,  art  to  blame.  'Tis  written, 
'  Put  not  thy  trust  in  princes.'  Before  God,  Cromwell, 
I  declare  this :     '  Put  not  thy  trust  in  friends.'  " 

He  paused,  breathless. 

"  Hast  finished,  then?"  said  Cromwell,  in  his  quietest, 
driest  tones. 

"  For  the  moment,  aye ;  but  there  be  much  more  upon 
my  mind." 

"  Then  I  pity  you.  But  I  would  crave  your  attention 
for  a  little  while  before  ye  conclude  your  sermon.  What 
is  your  purpose?  I  have  seen  one  in  your  eyes  from  the 
beginning." 

"  I  shall  convey  Rachel  to  London  to  reside  with 
me.  I  have  a  house  of  moderate  comfort,  and  have 
engaged  a  discreet  gentlewoman,  a  lady  of  ripe  years 
and  strictest  principles,  to  be  a  companion  to  her." 

"All  this  provided?  There  hath  been  forethought 
here.     Methinks  the  present  sad  condition  of  affairs  hath 


249 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

been  foreshadowed  in  thy  mind  for  some  considerable 
time.     Be  this  so?  " 

CromweH's  tone  was  still  quiet  and  courteous,  his  face, 
slightly  shaded  by  his  hand,  calm  and  reposeful,  while 
Hepworth's  twitched  with  nervous  intensity  and  excite- 
ment. 

"  Assuredly,"  was  the  reply,  in  a  tone  of  dignified  com- 
placency. "  Didst  imagine  I  would  trust  my  niece  with 
anyone,  even  with  thee,  without  a  means  of  knowing 
something  of  her  doings  and  behaviour  from  a  trusty 
source?    Thou  must  surely  deem  me  very  simple." 

He  laughed  as  only  a  man  to  whom  diplomacy  was  a 
sealed  book  could  have  laughed.  "  Nay,  friend,"  he 
continued,  "  I  know  much,  aye,  more  than  I  have  told 
thee.  But  I  have  said  enough,  I  trust,  to  open  thine 
eyes  to  the  mischief  that  hath  been  abrewing." 

"  Not  yet,  reverend  sir."  And  now,  though  Cromwell 
still  held  his  voice  in  check,  it  was  like  low  thunder.  "  I 
would  know  a  deal  which  as  yet  thou  hast  but  hinted. 
First,  who  has  supplied  thee  with  such  minute  and  par- 
ticular information?  It  must  be  a  member  of  my  house- 
hold, or  my  troop.     Give  me  his  name." 

There  was  a  pause.  Hepworth  saw  that  he  had  gone 
too  far. 

"Nay,"  he  said  stiffly;  "that  would  be  to  betray 
confidence." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  thcc."  Cromwell  left  his  chair  and 
stood  at  the  table,  a  glitter  in  his  eyes  like  the  flash  of 
steel  in  firelight, 

"In  the  month  of  September  last,  thou,  a  Christian 
minister,  sent  into  the  house  of  thy  friend  a  spy.  There 
is  but  one  man  who  could  have  told  thee  what  thou 
thinkest  thou  knowest,  and  that  man  is  Geoffrey  Capell. 
Deny  it  if  thou  canst." 

He  paused  for  an  answer,  but  Hepworth,  cautious 
now,  only  remarked :  — 

"  I  commit  myself  to  nothing." 
250 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Thou  dost  not  deny  it?"  Cromwell  exclaimed. 
"Then  'tis  true.  Capell,  the  pious  soldier,  my  trusted 
officer,  I  now  know  to  be  a  spy,  and  worse.  Pretending 
zeal  for  the  cause  and  true  religion,  he  hath  plotted  the 
undoing  of  a  comrade,  hath  watched  his  movements  and 
speech,  and  followed  him  about  as  a  tiger  tracks  its  prey. 
Silence,"  as  the  minister  would  have  protested  angrily, 
"silence!  and  hearken  to  me.  I  have  listened  patiently 
to  thee.  As  thou'rt  an  honourable  man,  answer  this 
question:  Hath  not  Capell,  since  his  sojourn  here,  writ 
to  thee  twice  or  thrice  a  week?  I  know  he  hath.  Has 
there  been  one  letter  in  which  he  hath  not  told  thee  of 
Dangerfield's   misdoings?     Has   there   been?     Answer." 

The  minister  looked,  as  he  felt,  uncomfortable;  but  he 
said  with  dignity,  "  The  lieutenant  is  my  friend.  What- 
e'er  he  has  said  to  me  hath  been  in  strictest  confidence." 

"Dost  mean  thou  hast  kept  the  contents  private?" 

"  Aye,  indeed." 

Cromwell  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Thy  memory  is  faulty,  or  my  Lord  Essex  lies.  Two 
weeks  ago  he  told  me  he  had  seen  such  a  letter,  handed 
him  by  you." 

Hepworth  changed  colour,  then  became  more  dignified 
than  ever. 

"  Maybe  thou  art  right.  I  deemed  it  wise  my  lord 
should  see  that  letter.     We  had  been  speaking  of  Capell." 

"  You  deemed  it  wise?  "  Cromwell  said  fiercely.  "  Ton 
my  life,  sir,  that  would  be  a  poor  excuse  were  you  to  be 
brought  before  a  court  for  defaming  an  honest  man.  I 
have  seen  men  hanged  for  less.  But  to  return  to  Capell 
the  spy.  You've  told  me  much,  you  said.  Indeed,  I 
know  more  than  ever  you  intended.  Who  was  it 
reported  Dangerfield  to  be  lax,  malignant,  insubordi- 
nate? Capell.  Who  told  you  of  his  misdemeanours  and 
said  he  was  to  be  thrown  aside?  Who  but  Capell? 
Twelve  hours  have  not  passed  since  you  crossed  my 
threshold.     You  have  not  exchanged  a  word  with  Dan- 

251 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

gerfield  or  asked  me  for  my  opinion  of  his  conduct. 
Nay;  solely  upon  this  information  garnered  from  your 
spy,  and  through  the  itch  and  fever  in  your  blood,  you 
must  needs  rend  this  child,  your  niece,  as  if  she  had  been 
guilty  of  illicit  dealings  with  the  lad.  Perhaps  this,  also, 
your  spy  hath  led  you  to  believe.  She  defended  him,  you 
say?  Aye,  her  soul  hath  so  strong  a  sense  of  justice  that 
not  even  dread  of  your  cruel  suspicions  could  subdue  it 
to  silence.  'Another  side'?  'Fore  God,  there  be 
another  side,  indeed.  You  do  not  know  that  maiden. 
As  for  you  and  your  plans,  I  refuse  now,  or  ever,  to  part 
with  her.  Your  suspicions  are  without  foundation. 
Said  I  the  word,  she'd  be  betrothed  to  Oliver  this  night. 
And  were  it  not  so,  naught  should  drive  me  to  relin- 
quish her  unto  your  hands.  By  your  foul  attacks  you 
have  proved  yourself  unworthy  to  have  the  charge  of 
such  a  maiden.  What?" — as  Hepworth,  whose  anger 
had  been  growing  moment  by  moment  and  now  flamed 
out  in  a  volume  of  threats  — "  you'll  appeal  to  Parlia- 
ment? to  Essex?  Get  ye  to  your  bed.  Were  you  not 
a  minister,  and  I  well  aware  of  your  good  faith,  and  how 
you  have  been  nose-ringed  by  this  spy  of  yours,  Fd  deal 
by  ye  far  more  rudely  than  with  a  few  rough  words. 
You'll  see  the  maiden?  Only  in  my  presence,  not  alone. 
Never  again  shall  your  tongue  so  wound  her  tender 
heart.  As  to  my  cornet,  I  still  hold  him  culpable  to  a 
degree.  But  he  hath  been  falsely  charged.  There  will 
be  a  reckoning  there  for  someone.  My  worthy  lieuten- 
ant shall  explain  some  things  to  me  before  he  sleep." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IT  was  now  ten  o'clock  at  night.  Cromwell  had  ridden 
thirty  miles  that  day  over  heavy  roads,  and  since  his 
arrival  at  Ely  had  not  been  at  rest  for  a  moment.  He 
was  very  tired.  Nevertheless,  with  scarcely  an  effort, 
he  put  aside  his  weariness  and  went  straight  to  Capell's 
room.  The  lieutenant  was  kneeling  in  prayer,  and 
Cromwell  stood  at  the  door  with  bent  head  until  he  rose 
from  his  knees. 

"You,  sir?     Be  there  fresh  news  from  Milton?" 

He  took  up  his  doublet. 

"  Stay,  man,"  Cromwell  said,  seating  himself  on  the 
bed.  "  Put  your  clothes  aside.  I  have  no  work  for  ye." 
His  face  was  grey,  his  eyes  weary;  there  was  no  anger 
in  them  now. 

"  We  have  had  much  talk  to-day,"  he  went  on,  "  con- 
cerning my  cornet.  Yet,  after  all,  I  have  not  put  direct 
the  question  that  concerns  me  most." 

He  paused,  and  Capell  wondered  what  was  coming. 

"You  told  me  he  had  been  careless  in  his  duties; 
indulgent  to  the  disaffected;  blasphemous  on  occasion 
in  his  language;  a  bad  example  to  those  under  him,  and 
a  thriftless  and  unwilling  servant  to  the  cause.  This  was 
much,  but  I  would  know  more.  Hath  it  ever  crossed 
thy  mind  that  he  was  given  to  gallantry?  " 

A  gleam  came  into  Capell's  eyes.  He  turned  them 
away  and  sat  still  thinking.  Was  this  an  answer  to  his 
prayer,  or  was  it  a  snare  of  Satan?  He  was  not  easy 
in  his  mind  this  evening.  He  had  played  his  cards  well, 
and  Dangerfield  had  been  trapped  even  more  completely 
than   he   had   expected,    but   would    he    be    dismissed? 

253 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Capell  had  not  forgotten  Cromwell's  change  of  front 
after  Edge  Hill,  and  was  apprehensive  that  even  yet 
he  might  retain  Ralph  in  the  troop.  The  evidence 
against  Dangerfield  was  strong  enough  for  most  men, 
but  Capell  was  far  too  astute  to  fall  into  Hepworth's 
error  and  underrate  Cromwell's  affection  for  the  delin- 
quent. It  was  a  desperate  business.  Capell  had  the 
strongest  reasons  for  feeling  that  Ralph  must  go;  but 
though  he  was  confident  that  he,  himself,  had  gained 
Cromwell's  good  will  by  his  work  since  September,  yet 
—  he  was  not  on  safe  ground.  He  tried  to  read  his  cap- 
tain's face,  but  it  told  him  nothing.  Then,  slowly  but 
decisively,  he  made  the  plunge. 

"  You  ask  of  me  that  which  I  am  loath  to  tell  you," 
he  said.  "  This  cornet  of  yours  be  not,  like  myself,  a 
stranger  here.  Again,  it  may  be  reasoned  that  I  have 
no  concern  with  aught  that  does  not  touch  his  conduct 
as  an  officer,  or  the  performance  of  his  duty.  All  this 
would  persuade  me  to  silence,  and  if  I  speak  it  is  only 
because  you  question  me."  He  paused  to  glance  swiftly 
and  suddenly  at  Cromwell.  There  was  no  change  in  his 
attitude,  no  hint  of  foreknowledge  in  the  grave,  tired 
face. 

"  But,  as  you  bid  me  speak,"  he  went  on  more  rapidly, 
*'  I  must,  though  in  strict  privacy.  That  youth  is  amor- 
ous to  a  degree,  that  is,  he  is  in  love,  as  the  term  goes. 
And  in  my  poor  judgment  the  backslidings  in  conduct 
that  you  wot  of  are  to  be  traced  more  to  that  cause  than 
any  other.  I  have  never  been  in  love  myself,"  he  added, 
in  cold,  decided  tones ;  "  I  am  not  well-favoured,  and  have 
not  the  gift  of  speech  with  women:  but  I  can  tell  the 
signs  in  another.  If  your  cornet,  sir,  be  not  in  love  with 
your  ward.  Mistress  Rachel  Fullerton,  if  he  dotes  not 
upon  the  very  ground  she  treads  on,  then  call  me  a  lying 
knave,  take  my  commission  from  me,  turn  me  from  thy 
doors." 

He  spoke  with  an  emphasis  and  an  earnestness  very 

254 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

seldom  seen  in  him.     Cromwell  raised  his  eyebrows  and 
coughed  with  dry  and  irritating  incredulity. 

"This  is  strange  news,  indeed.  Where  be  your 
proof?  " 

Capell  smiled  with  peculiar  grimness. 

"That  is  not  wanting.  Since  I  came  first  to  Ely 
scarce  a  day  hath  passed  without  fresh  tokens.  An  I 
even  spoke  to  his  fair  mistress  the  cornet  would  fret  and 
fume.  When  it  became  meet  that  I  should  examine 
letters  with  her  in  your  absence  —  and  let  me  say  the 
maid  hath  rare  business  judgment  and  good  sense  —  he 
chafed,  cursed  beneath  his  breath,  cast  glances  at  me, 
and  got  into  such  a  taking  over  it  —  faith,  I  thought 
he'd  challenge  me.  Poor  wretch,  I'd  have  found  it  in 
my  heart  to  pity  him  but  for  the  danger  to  the  maiden's 
peace.  That  made  it  grave,  and  because  of  that  I  bring 
the  news  to  you." 

"  A  consideration  worthy  of  your  reputation,"  Crom- 
well replied,  "yet  why,  good  sir,  came  you  not  before? 
You  have  been  here  two  months.  Hadst  weighty  reason 
for  your  silence?  " 

Capell  was  silent  a  moment.  He  had  not  expected  the 
question.  He  thought  that  Cromwell  would  continue 
to  pooh-pooh  the  whole  affair. 

"  There  was  a  reason,"  he  replied. 

Cromwell  nodded.     "  Aye?  " 

"  I  feared  it  would  do  him  a  mischief,  and  judged  it 
right  to  wait  until  I  perceived  a  leaning  on  the  other 
side." 

"  When  saw  you  that?  " 

"  To-day,  since  your  return.  'Twill  be  best,  perchance, 
to  give  you  particulars  in  detail.  It  was  after  your  dis- 
missal of  the  cornet  in  the  library,  after  I  left  you  and 
the  Reverend  Master  Hepworth  in  conversation  there. 
When  I  was  in  the  passage  leading  from  your  room,  I 
heard  voices  from  the  hall,  his  voice  and  hers.  Before  I 
reached  the  place  Dangerfield  had  retreated  up  the  stairs, 

255 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

but  Mistress  Rachel  stood  her  ground  and  for  an  instant 
met  my  eye  unblushingly.  Yet  when  I  looked  at  her 
in  passing  a  deep  colour  came  into  her  cheeks,  and  she 
turned  around  with  a  kind  of  anger  and  defiance.  Of 
a  truth  " —  Capell  smiled  sardonically  — "  the  maiden 
might  have  been  the  queen  and  I  a  traitor  to  his  majesty. 
Then  I  spoke  some  word  touching  the  weather.  But 
instead  of  answering  she  moved  away  with  a  haughty 
bending  of  the  neck,  and  so  passed  into  her  chamber. 
I  was  amazed,  for  until  then  we  had  not  fallen  out  in  any 
way.  I  had  a  mind  to  ask  in  what  manner  I  had 
offended,  but  I  did  not.  I  saw  her  cheeks  were  wet  with 
tears;  even  her  hands  were  trembling.  That,  sir,  be  my 
evidence  and  the  proof." 

Cromwell  nodded. 

"  'Tis  well  I  spake  ye  on  the  point  to-night.  The  mat- 
ter is  of  importance.  Doth  any  other  person  know  this 
but  thyself?  " 

"  I  know  of  no  one." 

"  None?     Hast  told  any  other  person  what  you  saw?  " 

"Aye;  the  reverend  minister,  being  her  relation,  was 
informed  of  the  circumstance." 

"  It  was  your  words,  then,"  Cromwell  muttered  half 
to  himself,  "  that  brought  such  a  tempest  on  her  head 
from  him." 

"  I  fear  so,"  Capell  said  hastily.  "  The  good  man  —  I 
say  it  with  all  respect  —  is  of  a  hasty  temper.  I  think 
he  was  over-harsh  in  what  he  said." 

"  She  does  not  say  so,"  Cromwell  replied.  "  How 
much  have  you  told  him  —  all?  " 

"  Only  enough  to  set  him  on  his  guard." 

"Guard?     'Gainst  what?     My  cornet?" 

The  storm  was  rising,  and  Capell  held  his  peace. 

"  'Gainst  Ralph  Dangerfield  —  thy  comrade  in  arms," 
Cromwell  said,  quietly  still,  but  so  bitterly  that  it  set 
Capell's  teeth  on  edge,  "  the  man  whom  you  disliked. 
Now,  was  this  well?     I  ask  you,  was  it  well  done?" 

256 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Capell  frowned.  He  was  in  no  mood  to  allow  his 
action  to  be  questioned. 

"  I  obeyed  my  conscience.  An  it  hath  displeased 
you " 

"Me?  What  am  I?  Was  it  pleasing  unto  God? 
Wait  before  you  answer.  You  said  that  Hepworth 
knew  of  the  maiden's  danger  two  hours  since.  Also 
you  told  me  you'd  held  back  all  knowledge  from  my  ears, 
though  I  be  his  captain  and  her  guardian,  because  until 
this  day  there  was  no  proof  that  she  was  touched  with 
a  feeling  for  the  youth.  Hast  ever  let  your  suspicions 
escape  you  to  others?     I  would  know  that." 

Capell  set  his  teeth.  His  back  was  against  the  wall, 
but  he  would  not  flinch. 

"  I  have  done  naught  dishonourable  toward  Danger- 
field,  neither  by  word  nor  deed." 

"  Thou  hast  kept  thine  counsel,  then,  breathing  no 
word  that  might  injure  him  and  profit  thee?  Answer 
me." 

"I  —  kept  my  counsel." 

"Thou  liar!" 

Capell  sprang  to  his  feet,  his  teeth  bared  like  a  dog's. 
Cromwell  rose  also  slowly  and  glared  at  him  with  a 
glance  so  withering  and  contemptuous  that  the  lieuten- 
ant, though  a  man  of  strong  nerve,  positively  shivered, 
and  could  not  speak. 

"  I  say  liar,  and  again  liar"  Cromwell  thundered. 
"  Thou  hast  corresponded  with  Isaac  -Hepworth  behind 
my  back  for  months  about  this  matter.  The  boy  was 
right  when  he  said  thou  wert  his  enemy  and  mine. 
Liar,  hypocrite,  slanderer  of  a  man's  good  name  —  such 
an  one  art  thou,  Geofifrey  Capell,  and  thou  knowest  thou 
art.  Were  these  times  of  peace,  I  would  arrest  thee  and 
have  thee  tried  as  a  common  criminal ;  but  the  press  that 
is  upon  us  forbids  that.  Thy  sword  is  wanted,  and  thou 
shalt  be  free  to  use  it,  but  not  in  my  service.  Thou 
leavest  my  house  to-morrow  never  to   enter  its  doors 

17  257 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

again,  and  quittest  the  troop  until  God  in  His  good  time 
shall  have  punished  thee  and  brought  thee  to  repentance. 
Now  say  thy  say  if  thou  wilt;  I  will  hear  thee." 

Capell  did  not  speak  for  a  moment.  His  face  was 
colourless,  his  mouth  hard,  and  there  were  drops  of 
sweat  upon  his  forehead;  but  he  did  not  quail. 

"  Perchance,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "  I  have  been  to  blame; 
but  I  am  not  what  you  say.  One  day  you  will  confess 
as  much.  Dangerfield  hath  cozened  you.  Your  love 
for  him  robs  you  of  your  understanding.  He  cannot 
help  himself.    Passion  is  his  god ;  he  is  without  religion." 

"  I  have  heard  that  said  before,"  Cromwell  replied;  he 
had  regained  his  composure.  There  was  such  misery 
and  bitter  sense  of  failure  in  the  proud  face  that  he  could 
have  pitied  the  man  had  he  been  less  angry  with  him. 
"Aye,  the  youth  hath  some  lack  of  faith,  I  grant  ye  that; 
but  he  hath  honour,  and  he  tells  the  truth.  If  thou  wert 
more  like  him  thou  liadst  never  sunk  so  low  as  this. 
Yet  thou  art  a  believer.  If  God  dealeth  with  thee^ 
according  to  thy  deserts,  Geoffrey  Capell,  woe  betide 
thee!" 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

WHEN  Ralph  woke  the  next  morning  he  remem- 
bered with  disgust  that  it  was  his  turn  to  give  the 
men  their  daily  drill.  It  was  the  custom  in  the  troop  — 
a  custom  instituted  by  Cromwell  in  early  days  at  Ralph's 
suggestion  —  that  all  the  men  not  on  special  duty  should 
turn  out  for  an  hour  at  sunrise  and  perform  such  evolu- 
tions as  the  officer  on  duty  might  direct.  Capell  and 
Ralph  took  this  duty  between  them  day  and  day  about, 
and  in  this  way  discipline  and  smartness  in  action,  both 
of  men  and  horses,  was  kept  up  to  the  mark.  It  was  the 
happiest  time  in  Ralph's  day.  He  was  doing  the  work 
he  understood  and  loved,  and  he  did  it  well.  Even 
Cromwell,  when  at  times  he  turned  out  and  watched  the 
manoeuvres,  rarely  criticised  his  method  of  handling  men. 
But  on  this  particular  morning  Ralph  wished  that  the 
drill  had  never  been  thought  of.  It  would  be  hard  to 
face  his  men  in  any  case,  and  it  was  more  than  likely 
that  Capell  would  make  an  excuse  of  being  present  also, 
and  in  a  dozen  ways  make  his  cornet  feel  the  humiliation 
of  his  position  after  the  fiasco  of  Brampton  Grange. 
However,  the  thing  had  to  be  done,  Capell  or  no  Capell. 
Cromwell  had  not  dismissed  his  cornet,  and  therefore 
that  cornet  must  do  his  duty.  So,  with  the  grimmest  of 
faces  to  hide  his  internal  qualms,  Ralph  dressed  himself 
with  scrupulous  neatness  and  arrived  at  quarters  punc- 
tual to  the  minute.  One  glance  showed  him  that  Capell 
was  absent,  and,  mounted  on  a  fresh,  spirited  horse  in 
the  crisp,  fresh  air  of  a  winter's  morning,  his  spirits  rose, 
and  he  faced  his  men  with  a  composure  that  he  flattered 
himself  would  have  done  credit  to  Cromwell. 

259 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

By  the  time  the  drill  was  over  Ralph  was  himself  again. 
As  he  rode  back  to  town  with  Micklejohn,  who  had  taken 
Reuben's  place,  he  saw  that  the  little  man  had  something 
on  his  mind,  and  looking  down  at  the  round  face  and 
turned-up  nose,  nipped  by  the  frost  to  a  bright  carna- 
tion, he  said  cheerily: 

"  Speak  up,  Jem,  and  be  not  so  bashful.  Though  I 
am  your  officer,  you  are  twice  my  age,  and  should  be 
twice  as  wise.  We  are  beyond  hearing  of  the  men. 
Now  tell  me  thy  mind,  and  plainly;  rid  it  of  the  spleen 
that  my  blunder  hath  given  ye  all." 

Jeremiah  looked  up  sideways  with  a  mischievous 
twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

"  Marry,  sir,  if  my  conscience  rode  me  as  hard  as  thine 
does  thee  I'd  throw  and  trample  on  the  cursed  thing. 
Pardon  my  speech.  My  tongue  wags  as  it  lists  into  thine 
ears.  My  thoughts  were  but  these:  I  wondered  thou 
shouldst  look  so  gloomy  when  thy  cause  hath  triumphed, 
and  we  troopers,  aye,  everyone  of  us,  could  sing  a  Te 
Dciwi  for  joy  at  thinking  thine  enemy  is  gone." 

Ralph  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"What  mean  you,  man?" 

"  Hast  not  heard?  God's  sake,  I  dare  not  tell  thee. 
Yet  I  must  in  very  truth.  I  cannot  hold  it.  But  betray 
me  not.  At  earliest  dawn,  an  hour  before  drill,  who 
should  come  upon  us,  but  the  captain  —  I  should  say  the 
colonel!  I'd  my  clothes  on,  for  which  the  Lord  be 
thanked,  and  Sanctify,  vv^ho  never  sleeps,  was  rubbing 
down  his  mare.  Otherways  we'd  have  been  caught  nap- 
ping, for  the  lads  slept  too  long  to-day.  '  Saddle  the 
lieutenant's  horse,'  saith  the  colonel  in  that  sharp  tone 
of  his  that  means  he  be  exceedingly  short  of  temper. 
Not  a  man  of  us  but  hastens  when  he  hears  that  tone. 
'And  another,'  he  adds,  briefer  still,  'a  quiet  nag;  see  it 
be  quiet.  Let  both  be  at  my  door  within  ten  minutes. 
But  rouse  not  the  men.'  'Twas  done  in  the  time,  though 
I  was  so  nervous,  Sanctify  declares  I'd  nigh  put  the  sad- 

a6o 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

die  on  pommel  hindmost;  and  there  on  the  steps  we  saw 
the  old  minister  and  Capell.  I  call  him  not  lieutenant," 
Jem  added,  with  elevated  nose;  "  he  be  none  now.  They 
were  departing,  and  Noll  —  I  ask  thy  pardon;  it  is  our 
pet  name,  I  mean  the  colonel  —  speeded  them.  There 
were  few  words  passed,  and  those  civil  ones;  but  the 
stiff  carriage  and  angry  eyes  of  the  presbyter,  Capell's 
lowered  brows  and  face  yellow  as  a  drum-head,  the 
colonel's  cold  address, all  told  a  right  plain  tale.  And, alack 
for  me,  I've  lost  a  heavy  wager  I  made  with  Reuben 
before  he  went  again  to  Milton.  Yet  I  lose  my  crown 
with  a  light  heart  to  think  that  man  hath  gone." 

He  laughed  and  slapped  his  thigh,  then  suddenly 
stiffened  his  features,  reined  in  his  horse,  and  dropped 
behind.  They  had  reached  the  town,  and  turning  a 
corner  of  the  street,  had  been  met  by  Cromwell. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  Reuben  returned  in  triumph 
with  a  trail  of  waggons  loaded  with  the  intercepted 
treasure  and  provisions,  and  surrounded  with  cheering 
townspeople.  The  news  of  the  seizure  flew  far  and  wide, 
and  greatly  facilitated  the  recruiting  of  the  regiment. 

Into  this  work  Ralph  threw  himself  heart  and  soul. 
Capell  away,  he  was  Cromwell's  right  hand  once  again. 
No  colonel  ever  had  a  more  industrious  one.  Ralph 
never  knew  the  exact  reason  for  Capell's  departure. 
Cromwell  on  the  first  morning  told  him  that  until  other 
arrangements  were  made  he  was  to  take  command  of 
the  troop,  and  aid  him  as  occasion  arose  in  other  ways. 
He  admitted  curtly  that  circumstances  had  arisen  which 
justified  Ralph's  view  of  Capell's  sentiments,  but  he  said 
no  more.  It  was  natural  that  Ralph  should  credit 
Rachel  with  the  chief  share  in  all  this,  and  the  thought 
m.ade  him  happier  than  was  at  all  desirable  or  wise. 
Soon  afterwards,  however,  Oliver  paid  a  flying  visit  to 
Ely,  and  Ralph's  hopes  fell  to  zero.  He  saw  nothing  of 
Rachel.    Oliver  was  with  her  most  of  the  day,  and  con- 


261 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

fided  to  Ralph,  from  whom  he  had  no  secrets,  that  he 
believed  his  betrothal  could  not  long  be  delayed. 

Yet,  in  spite  of  the  pain  and  sinking  of  the  heart 
which  this  news  gave  him,  Ralph  enjoyed  Oliver's 
visit.  There  was  a  heartiness  in  the  grasp  of  hand  and 
in  his  burly  voice;  an  infectious  cheerfulness  in  his  ring- 
ing laugh,  which  cheered  Ralph  as  it  cheered  the  rest  of 
the  family.  Besides,  Oliver  put  his  father's  attitude  in 
a  new  and  pleasant  light. 

"  r  faith,  friend,"  he  exclaimed  one  day,  "  why  harpest 
thou  upon  this  string  of  'retrieving  reputation'?  What 
is  there  to  retrieve?  My  father  be  not  angered.  Eh? 
You  think  so  because  since  then  he  hath  been  short  of 
manner  and  close  of  speech?  That  is  nothing  but  the 
pressure  of  the  times.  Man,  he  was  never  really  angered, 
but  he  had  a  part  to  play  before  those  worsted  stockings, 
Hep  worth  and  Capell.  Bah!  think  you  he  loves  raking 
homesteads,  scaring  women,  squeezing  malignant  purses, 
and  spying  upon  his  neighbours  any  more  than  thee? 
He  knew  you  were  too  good  for  it  —  depend  upon  that  — 
and  only  kept  you  at  it  to  give  Capell  rope  enough  to 
hang  himself,  which,  at  length,  the  dreaper  did.  A  curse 
upon  such  rogues!  Well  may  those  rascally  Cavaliers 
call  us  crop-ears  and  hypocrites  while  we  kennel  hounds 
of  such  a  breed!  Father  hates  them,  though,  as  much 
as  we  do,  and  if  he  lets  them  strut  on  stilts  a  while,  he 
strikes  them  down  before  they  choke  him  or  his  friends. 
My  fakins!  Ralph,  but  there  has  been,  and  is,  a  rattle 
over  you.  Father  angry  forsooth!  He  is  your  toughest 
friend.  The  Speaker  of  the  Commons  writ  him  a  pri- 
vate letter.  I  know  not  its  contents,  but  he  told  me  it 
concerned  grave  charges  made  by  Master  Hepworth, 
and  which  he  feared  might  come  before  the  House. 
Essex  hath  written  too,  demanding  your  dismissal.  Now 
you  know  father!  Thinkst  him  to  be  a  man  who'd  allow 
such  a  storm  to  gather  round  his  head  if  he  did  not  knovv^ 
you  were  worth   it?     And   you   be   worth   it,   comrade. 

262 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Thy  religion  is  the  only  weak  part  about  ye,  and  what 
matters  that  in  a  soldier?  I  am  your  friend,  and  father 
be  too,  till  death  and  after.  Let  the  world  wag  as  it 
may." 

Drilling,  drilling,  drilling  —  this  was  Ralph's  work. 
Recruits  poured  in,  for  Cromwell's  reputation  of  being 
the  poor  man's  friend,  and  paying  his  troopers  regularly, 
stood  higher  than  ever.  His  enemies  used  it  against  him 
then  and  afterwards,  declaring  that  it  was  made  by  truck- 
ling to  the  mob.  The  accusations  would  have  had  little 
real  foundation  in  fact,  for  among  all  the  gentry  in  the 
south  of  England  no  one  had  greater  command  over  the 
purses  of  wealthy  friends  and  neighbours  than  Crom- 
well. It  is  certain  that  his  democratic  sympathies  and 
gift  of  winning  the  hearts  of  common  men  served  him 
best  of  all.  It  followed,  therefore,  that  while  most  of 
those  who  raised  a  regiment  at  this  time  had  to  be  con- 
tent to  enrol  any  who  chose  to  volunteer,  Cromwell  was 
able  to  select  his  men.  Quickly  the  ranks  filled  up,  and 
by  February  the  regiment  was  recruited  to  its  full 
strength  of  twelve  troops,  six  hundred  and  eighty  men. 
The  appointment  of  officers  was  a  slower  business, 
though  not  so  hard  as  it  had  been  before  Edge  Hill. 
Ralph  watched  this  process  with  peculiar  interest.  He 
had  been  duly  appointed  lieutenant  of  the  first  troop, 
and  the  captaincy  was  a  matter  of  the  first  importance 
to  him. 

But  January  passed,  and  February,  and  though  one 
after  another  of  the  troops  were  duly  officered,  the  first 
troop  remained  captainless.  Ralph,  moreover,  though 
nominally  lieutenant,  was  filling  half  a  dozen  other  posts. 
He  personally  tested,  inspected,  and  bought  the  horses; 
gave  riding  lessons  to  awkward  squads;  superintended 
the  arming  and  clothing  of  the  men;  planned  with  Crom- 
well, and  passed  on  in  his  name  to  the  other  officers,  the 
regulations  Vv^hich  were  to  be  observed  concerning  the 
punishment  of  breach  of  discipline  among  the  men.     He 

263 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

organised  a  commissariat  department  on  a  small  scale, 
and  while  Cromwell  was  absent  was  paymaster  to  the 
regiment.  It  was  excellent  training  for  a  young  soldier, 
but  the  responsibility  was  very  heavy,  and  the  labour 
intense.  He  was  never  idle,  indeed,  for  a  moment  except 
at  night,  and  his  nights  were  short.  There  were  no 
visits  to  Madam  Cromwell's  room  now,  no  more  consul- 
tations on  business  with  Rachel.  The  only  time  he  ever 
saw  her  was  on  Sunday,  and  then  it  was  but  a  glimpse 
of  her  face  at  table,  for  the  pressure  of  work  was  too 
great  even  for  a  strict  observance  of  the  Sabbath.  Yet 
Ralph  was  happy.  Every  morning  early  he  reported  to 
Cromwell,  received  his  orders,  and  discussed  briefly  the 
business  of  the  day.  Sometimes,  as  Cromwell's  aid-de- 
camp, he  attended  meetings  of  the  committees  of  the 
associated  counties  —  bodies  of  shrewd  merchants, 
squires,  farmers,  and  tradesmen,  who  like  some  commit- 
teemen of  the  present  day,  readily  voted  supplies  of 
money  subscribed  by  other  people,  and  sent  forth  elo- 
quent appeals  to  friends  and  neighbours  to  go  forth  to 
war;  but  stayed  at  home  themselves.  There  were,  how- 
ever, strong  and  earnest  men  among  them,  and  wherever 
Cromwell  sat,  work,  not  words,  was  the  order  of  the  day. 
Ralph,  a  silent  spectator  of  it  all,  was  never  tired  of 
watching  the  colonel  work  his  will  in  everything  he 
touched;  appealed  to  by  all,  guiding  all,  and  in  return 
quietly  taking  upon  himself  burdens  and  responsibilities 
few  men  would  choose  to  bear.  Yet  all  the  time  he 
seemed  to  be  constantly  deferring  to  the  will  of  others, 
and  few  realised  the  power  which  lay  in  his  hands. 

In  such  a  rush  and  whirl  did  Ralph  live  now  that  he 
had  hardly  time  even  to  think  of  Oliver,  who  was  again 
with  the  army  in  the  north  under  Fairfax.  But  from 
what  he  heard  Betty  drop  one  day  he  gathered  there  was 
no  formal  betrothal  yet.  The  question  of  the  captaincy 
of  the  first  troop  now  became  acute.  Ralph's  anxieties 
in  the  matter  were  not  so  much  for  his  own  sake  as  for 

264 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  men.  There  were  good  soldiers  in  other  troops,  and 
even  a  sprinkhng  of  veterans,  but  none  to  compare  for  a 
moment  with  "  Cromwell's  Own."  Ralph  knew  them 
all,  and  what  each  man  could  do,  and  they  knew  him. 
During  Capell's  time  there  had  been  murmurings  at  his 
want  of  religion,  but  the  majority,  headed  by  Sweetlove, 
Micklejohn,  and  Sanctify  Jordan,  had  staunchly  sup- 
ported him  from  the  beginning,  and  whatever  might  be 
Ralph's  infirmities  of  temper  and  speech,  he  inherited 
enough  of  his  father's  sensitive  respect  for  the  feelings  of 
others,  and  reverence  for  all  true  piety  never  to  say  or 
do  anything  which  might  offend  the  most  Puritanical 
trooper,  nor  rouse  the  antagonism  of  the  most  demo- 
cratic. Then  he  was  mindful  of  their  comfort,  spared 
them  in  illness,  procured  them  leave  of  absence  to  see 
their  families  and  friends,  and  though  he  could  be  severe 
enough  on  occasion,  he  never  punished  wantonly,  and, 
as  a  consequence,  the  men  of  the  first  troop  were  the 
most  contented  and  orderly  in  the  regiment;  worked 
early  and  late  without  a  grumble,  and  suffered  very  little 
deduction  of  their  pay  in  fines.  That  such  men  should 
have  a  worthy  commander  Ralph  felt  was  absolutely 
necessary;  and  when  the  winter  weather  fairly  broke  up, 
late  in  February,  and  Cromwell  went  to  London  for  the 
last  time;  when  the  equipment  of  the  regiment  was  all 
but  complete,  and  still  there  was  no  hint  or  sign  of  any 
appointment  there,  he  could  hardly  bear  the  suspense. 
It  was  in  those  days  that  he  felt  the  keenest  regret  for 
his  want  of  self-control  with  Capell.  Oliver  might  say 
what  he  pleased  and  the  men  be  loyalty  itself,  as  indeed 
they  were;  but  Ralph  knew  well  that  Cromwell  had 
blamed  him,  and  blamed  him  still.  He  was  as  kind  and 
considerate  now,  as  he  had  ever  been,  but  there  was  a 
reserve,  a  certain  curtness  of  manner,  a  lack  of  the  old 
cordiality,  which  Ralph  felt  bitterly  at  times,  and  which 
prevented  the  least  hope  that  the  captaincy  could  ever 

265 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

be  his.     The  most  that  he  could  hope  for  was  that  a  man 
would  be  chosen  who  would  treat  him  as  a  comrade. 

One  morning,  the  27th  of  February,  Ralph  rose  an 
hour  earlier  than  usual  to  make  an  excursion  of  thirty 
miles  through  muddy  lanes  to  a  village  where  he  had 
heard  certain  horses  of  peculiar  merit  were  for  sale  at 
a  very  low  price.     It  was  a  hard  ride,  and  to  Ralph's 
extreme  annoyance  he  found  upon  his  arrival  that  the 
beasts  had  been  picked  up  by  someone  else.     By  the  time 
he  reached  home  he  was  tired  out,  and  when  Betty  met 
him  at  the  door  and  announced  in  a  great  state  of  jubila- 
tion that  her  father  had  arrived,  a  depressing  presenti- 
ment overcame  him  that  bad  news  was  coming. 
"  Anyone  with  him,  Betsykin?  " 
"  Marry,  no,  Ralph;  who  should  there  be?  " 
"The  new  captain  of  the  troop,  belike." 
"Oh  dear!"  the  girl  cried  petulantly.     "Expect  you 
another  man?     Not  Alaster  Capell,  surely?     I  thought 
he  had  quite  gone  from  us," 

The  name  made  Ralph  start.  Could  it  be  possible 
that  Capell  would  be  appointed?  It  might  be.  The 
abruptness  of  his  departure  could  not  have  been  wholly 
through  Cromwell's  displeasure.  Not  a  word  had  ever 
been  said  against  his  work  or  capacity,  and  to  conciliate 
the  Presbyterians  such  an  appointment  would  be  an 
excellent  stroke  of  policy.  A  cold  shiver  ran  down 
Ralph's  back  as  these  possibilities  occurred  to  him,  and 
when,  late  in  the  evening,  he  met  his  colonel  alone,  his 
spirits  were  at  the  lowest  ebb. 

"  You  are  aweary,"  Cromwell  began,  lighting  a  long 
pipe  and  taking  a  sip  of  spiced  ale  —  the  only  luxury 
he  was  ever  known  to  indulge  in.  "  What  rode  ye  so  far 
for  after  half  a  dozen  horses?     It  was  waste  of  time." 

He  spoke  impatiently,  as  if  seeking  an  opportunity  to 
find  fault.     An  unpropitious  beginning. 

"  I  have  seen  all  there  are  about  here,"  Ralph 
answered,  "  but  they  do  not  satisfy  me.     They  be  too 

266 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

light  in  bone  or  else  very  coarsely  bred.  It  is  not  easy, 
believe  me,  to  find  just  what  we  need." 

"  'Tis  you  who  are  so  hard  to  content.  We  spend 
much  on  horseflesh,  too  much." 

"  You  will  find  it  well  worth,  sir,"  Ralph  cried,  forget- 
ting weariness,  suspense,  and  all  else  in  his  favourite 
hobby.  "  Remember  you  —  it  was  you  who  remarked 
it  —  the  difference  between  the  charge  of  Rupert's  horse 
and  ours  at  Edge  Hill?  I  believe  if  Ramsay's  had  been 
our  best,  'stead  of  our  worst,  they  must  have  broke  before 
that  charge;  and  it  was  speed  that  did  it.  Their  beasts 
were  each  worth  three  of  ours.  But  take  your  regiment, 
or,  at  least,  the  first  troop.  I'll  swear  they'd  make 
Rupert's  bloods  look  to  it  now!  Regarding  the  other 
troops,  until  they  have  more  training,  and  their  officers 
more  experience,  and  I  have  weeded  out  a  score  or  two 
of  their  nags,  they'll  never  be  more  than  second-rate.  I 
have  done  my  best,  but  truly  " —  and  he  sighed  wearily 
— "  so  much  is  there  to  do,  and  so  little  time,  that  I  feel 
small  contentment  in  my  work." 

"  That  is  a  pity,"  Cromwell  said  in  a  musing  tone, 
puffing  huge  clouds  of  smoke  and  gazing  into  the  fire. 
"  The  officers  complain  that  had  you  your  way,  you 
would  keep  their  men  and  them  at  exercise  until  they 
were  like  to  drop  from  weariness." 

Ralph  gave  an  impatient  snort. 

"Your  officers,  sir,  may  mean  well.  They  be  zealous 
in  preaching  and  most  pious,  but  never  did  I  know  men 
more  ignorant  of  their  profession.  Truth,  I  believe  they 
think  victory  will  come  far  more  by  long  prayers  than 
by  hard  work.  'Fore  Heaven,  I  would  not  scoff  at  any 
man's  religion,  but  it  is  hard  to  be  patient  when  you  see 
precious  time  wasted  in  long-winded  sermons." 

Cromwell  made  no  answer  to  this  outburst.  He 
smoked  in  silence  until  his  pipe  was  empty,  then  laid  it 
down  and  slowly  paced  the  room. 

267 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  The  first  troop,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  is  the  best,  you 
think?" 

Ralph  smiled  proudly. 

"  Need  I  answer?     That  troop  was  of  your  making." 

Cromwell  shook  his  head. 

"Ah,  but  it  was,"  Ralph  persisted;  "you  chose  every 
man.  They  learnt  the  use  of  sword  and  carabine  under 
your  eye.  You  carved  it  with  your  own  hands.  And, 
sir,  it  be  worthy  of  you,  though,  perchance  I  should  not 
say  so." 

"  To  a  point  you  may  be  right,"  Cromwell  said 
thoughtfully.  "  But  only  to  a  point.  Others  have  done 
more,  Capell  for  instance." 

Ralph  gave  a  start,  a  perceptible  start,  and  Cromwell 
turned  and  looked  him  in  the  face. 

"  Do  you  deny  it?  "  he  said  gently.  "  Be  quite  frank, 
I  pray  you." 

"Nay,"  Ralph  said,  biting  his  lip;  "that  would  be 
unjust.  Capell  did  his  part;  he  was  in  some  ways  a 
good  officer." 

"How  compareth  he  with  your  comrades  here?" 

Ralph  went  very  white  indeed.  The  notion  of  Capell's 
return  became  something  like  a  certainty  now\  But  he 
forced  himself  to  answer. 

"  I  should  judge  him  superior  in  knowledge  and  in 
industry.  But  as  a  man,  sir,  God  help  the  regiment  if 
he  come  back  again!  " 

"And  wherefore?     Because  he  is  your  enemy?" 

Cromwell's  face  had  hardened,  but  Ralph  did  not 
fiinch. 

"  If  that  be  your  reading  of  my  motive "  he  said 

bitterly,  when  Cromwell  cut  him  short. 

"I  say  not  that.  I  will  be  plain  with  thee.  Thy 
power  and  character  is  what  perplexeth  me  now,  not 
Capell's.  I  know  that  man.  Do  I  know  thee?  I  have 
been  pondering  many  days  upon  thee.  I  have  had  occa- 
sion."    He  sighed.     "Thy  name  has  been  dinned  into 

268 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

my  ear  in  London  by  many  tongues,  some  poisonous,  all 
harsh  —  but  one.  Capell,  whom  I  have  seen,  said  httle, 
and  that  in  thy  favour.  But  none  other  had  a  good  word 
for  thee.  Mark  that.  Thy  Hfe  at  college  was  laid 
before  me  in  blackest  colours,  thine  intimacy  with  that 
malignant  lord,  and  lastly,  and  worst,  thy  dependency 
in  money,  until  very  late,  upon  that  black-minded  Papist, 
Taunton.  Some  were  not  backward  in  declaring  that 
thou  knewest  as  much  concerning  that  treasure  at  the 
Grange  as  anyone.  Peace  now!  "  as  Ralph,  unable  to 
contain  himself  any  longer,  swore  aloud;  "  prithee,  peace 
till  I  have  done.  I  heard,  I  say,  such  things  as  these: 
Thou  art  a  Papist  in  disguise  thyself;  a  mahgnant  spy, 
a  rake,  a  debauchee  —  oh,  there  is  no  end  to  thy  delin- 
quency. Well,  to  all  of  it  I  made  one  reply:  'I  will 
tell  him  this,'  I  said,  'on  my  return,  hear  his  reply,  and 
then  in  writing  send  unto  my  Lord  of  Essex  my  decision 
upon  it  all.'     Now,  what  dost  reply,  Ralph?" 

He  paused  and  smiled,  a  smile  Ralph  thought  sardonic 
and  hard. 

"  My  answer,  sir,"  he  cried  hoarsely,  "  be  this:  If  you 
believe  one  of  these  foul,  damnable  lies,  aye,  even  the 
smallest  of  them,  by  my  father's  soul  I  leave  this  roof 
never  to  enter  its  doors  again." 

He  was  roused  at  last,  roused  as  Cromwell  had  never 
seen  him  yet. 

"  I  have  served  you,"  he  went  on  more  quietly,  "  to  the 
full  measure  of  my  strength.  I  have  done  it  gladly. 
But  if  in  your  mind  there  rests  one  grain  of  disbelief  in 
me  I  serve  you  no  more.  I  would  trust  you  with  my 
hfe;  I  ask  such  trust,  and  no  less,  from  ye." 

Cromwell  watched  him  a  moment  with  drooping  eye 
lids  before  he  spoke  again,  then  slipped  a  hand  beneath 
his  arm. 

"  Come  to  my  mother,  good  Ralph.  I  will  answer 
thee  in  her  presence.  She  is  acquaint  with  all  that  has 
been  said.     Come." 

269 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  turned  and  led  the  way  upstairs,  Ralph  following 
in  wonder  and  perplexity.  A  griping  pain  was  at  his 
heart  that  this  would  be  the  last  time  he  should  see  the 
old  lady's  calm,  strong  face. 

Madam  Cromwell  was  sitting  in  her  accustomed  place, 
and,  as  usual,  Rachel  was  with  her.  The  girl  rose  at 
their  entrance,  and  would  have  left  the  room,  but  Crom- 
well gravely  signed  to  her  to  stay. 

"  Mother,  I  have  brought  him  to  thee  according  to 
my  promise.  I  have  questioned  him,  and  my  mind  is 
well  made  up  concerning  all  that  I  have  heard.  Thou 
hast  greeted  this  man  as  lieutenant  for  the  last  time. 
He  is  the  captain  of  my  first  troop." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

THE  week  that  followed  Ralph's  promotion  was  a 
time  to  be  remembered  all  his  life.  Before  he  slept 
that  night  he  learned  that  a  public  announcement  of  his 
appointment  was  to  be  made  to  the  regiment  next  day. 

"  It  is  absolutely  necessary,"  Cromwell  said  when  he 
gave  the  order.  "  There  be  many  to  cavil  and  say  you 
have  crept  up  my  sleeve.  I  intend  to  stop  that  once  and 
for  all." 

The  men  were  in  full  uniform,  a  goodly  sight  on  that 
bright  spring  morning,  twelve  troops  of  horse  in  buff 
and  steel.  They  were  disposed  in  a  crescent  on  their 
usual  drilling  ground  outside  the  town,  their  movements 
watched  by  a  crowd  of  people,  for  it  had  got  wind  that 
some  ceremony  was  to  be  performed. 

"  Men,"  Cromwell  said,  in  the  conversational  tone  he 
always  used  when  addressing  his  soldiers,  yet  so  distinct 
that  no  one  ever  missed  a  word,  "  men  and  officers  of 
my  regiment,  I  have  assembled  thee  this  day  because  I 
think  it  fitting  thou  shouldst  hear  from  my  lips  that  I 
have  appointed  Master  Ralph  Dangerfield  to  be  captain 
of  my  first  troop.  It  is  a  position  of  trust  and  responsi- 
bility. The  men  of  that  troop  fought  well  on  Edge  Hill 
field.  The  quartermaster  of  that  troop  it  was  " —  Crom- 
well spoke  with  particular  distinctness  now  — "  who  took 
the  King's  standard  on  that  day.  The  commander  of 
such  men  as  these  must  be  one  with  courage  above  the 
average,  zeal  beyond  question,  integrity,  and  filled  with 
the  fear  of  God.  Captain  Dangerfield  hath  all  these 
qualities.  I  speak  not  from  my  own  knowledge  only, 
though  since  the  war  began  he  hath  been  an  inmate  of 

271 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

my  house,  but  from  the  fideHty  and  the  brotherly  love 
manifested  toward  him  by  his  men.  Soldiers  of  the  first 
troop  " —  Cromwell  raised  his  voice  now  until  it  rang 
over  the  field  — "  I  speak  in  thy  name.  Tell  your  com- 
rades whether  this  man  hath  not  been  your  faithful 
friend,  through  good  report  and  evil  report,  whether 
you  will  not  follow  him  as  your  commander  whitherso- 
ever he  may  lead,  though  it  be  to  certain  death.  The 
regiment  awaits  your  answer." 

A  pause  while  one  might  count  five,  and  then  from 
the  sixty  throats  of  "  Cromwell's  Own  "  there  came  a 
gruff  and  mighty  cheer,  which  set  the  horses  of  half  the 
officers  curvetting,  and  made  Ralph  blush  like  a  girl. 
Then  from  their  ranks  a  horseman  advanced  half  a  dozen 
paces,  drawing  up  before  Cromwell  with  a  salute  —  old 
Reuben. 

"  Faith!  Colonel,  I  will  answer  for  them."  He  wheeled 
round  and  faced  the  regiment.  "  Comrades,  list  to  an 
old  man  who'd  drawn  blood  o'ersea  when  the  most  of  ye 
were  in  your  mother's  arms.  The  colonel  hath  chosen 
well.  I've  known  none  braver  than  Captain  Danger- 
field.  At  Edge  Hill,  when  we  disputed  with  the  King's 
guards,  but  for  him  the  colonel  would  have  been  a  dead 
man  a  score  of  times.  As  we  followed  him  then,  so  we'll 
follow  him  now.  And  more  " —  he  drew  his  sword  and 
shook  it  in  their  faces  —  "  there  were  some  who  planned 
his  destruction,  and  mayhap  they  will  do  it  again.  Let 
them  mark  this,  then.  His  enemies  are  our  enemies; 
those  who  would  slay  or  misuse  him  will  have  to  reckon 
with  the  troop  to  its  last  man.  God  ha'  mercy  on  them ; 
we'll  have  none." 

His  words  were  greeted  by  the  troop  with  a  shout 
louder  than  the  first,  and  then,  Ralph  having  tried  to 
make  a  speech  in  reply,  and  signally  failed,  the  regiment 
marched  back  to  its  quarters,  the  officers  to  formally 
congratulate  Ralph,  the  men  to  stare  at  him  furtively  for 
the  rest  of  the  day. 

272 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

As  time  passed  the  work  grew  harder  and  harder,  but, 
with  Cromwell  to  direct,  and  Ralph  to  carry  out  his 
orders,  it  went  merrily  on,  and  the  afternoon  before  they 
were  to  depart  Ralph  found  himself  with  nothing  more 
to  do.  An  intense  longing  to  see  Rachel  came  upon 
him,  and  searching  stealthily  through  the  house,  he 
found  her  to  his  great  joy  alone  in  the  library. 

"  We  march  to-morrow,"   he  said,  with  an  unusual 
abruptness  of  tone;  "I  would  bid  thee  farewell  now,  an 
I  may,  having  so  fair  an  opportunity." 
She  frankly  extended  her  hand. 

"Must  it  be  good-bye,  then?  Yet  I  know  you  are 
longing  to  be  gone.     God  keep  you." 

They  were  quiet,  friendly  words,  spoken  without 
tremor  of  the  lips  or  voice.  Ralph's  face,  which  had  been 
very  hot,  grew  cool  again. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  said,  though  not  quite  in  the  same 
tone.  "  Thou  hast  indeed  kept  thy  promise,  and  proved 
thyself  my  friend  by  deeds  as  well  as  words  —  the  best 
friend  I  have." 

There  was  so  much  meaning  in  his  tone,  that  Rachel 
looked  startled  a  moment  and  very  faintly  blushed. 
"  Truly,  I  know  not  why  you  should  say  that." 
"  Does  that  mean  I  have  presumed  too  much?  "  Then 
before  she  could  answer  he  went  on :  "I  must  speak  my 
mind,  for  we  may  never  meet  again.  Thy  guardian,  my 
dear  colonel,  hath  been  the  kindest  commander  and  the 
truest  master  I  could  need.  But  the  day  I  spake  you 
in  the  hall  he  was  sorely  tried,  and  but  for  the  strength 
you  gave  me  I  could  not  have  withstood  him,  but  would 
have  resigned  and  so  lost  all  chance  of  the  position  I  hold 
to-day.  How  much  I  owe  to  you  I  know  not.  But 
through  all  you  have  been  the  anchor  that  hath  kept  me 
here.  Oh  that  I  might  do  you  a  like  service!  Were  I 
a  hundred  miles  distant,  if  you  were  in  trouble  I'd  find 
a  way  of  coming  to  thee.  Good-bye,  and  God  bless  thee 
friend  —  sweetest  friend  and  best." 
i8  273 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

His  voice  broke  at  the  last,  and  taking  the  hand  she 
had  extended,  he  kissed  it  passionately.  And  Rachel  — 
she  was  not  the  child  who  had  listened  half  fearfully,  half 
wonderingly,  to  honest  Oliver's  declaration.  These  few 
months  had  taught  her  much.  She  was  a  woman  much 
perplexed  and  sad  at  heart;  thinking  long  thoughts  in 
leisure  hours,  burdened  with  a  vague  sense  of  coming 
trouble  and  a  yearning  which  she  could  not  understand. 
Ralph's  words  found  their  way  straight  to  her  heart  and 
made  a  home  there.  Months  after  he  had  gone,  and  the 
house  was  quiet,  and  dull,  and  lonely  for  the  women  left 
behind,  Rachel  would  recall  them,  whisper  them  to  her- 
self guiltily,  and  brood  over  them.  At  the  moment  she 
could  answer  nothing,  only  stand  helpless,  letting  him 
keep  her  hand  and  do  with  it  what  he  chose.  They  were 
both  silent  —  a  silence  that  for  Ralph  was  golden  — 
then  he  took  her  other  hand  and  kissed  them  both. 

"  My  sweetest  friend,"  he  murmured,  the  passion  of 
his  love  rising  higher  and  higher,  "  and  one  day  to  be 

my  dearest " 

"  No."  She  tore  her  hands  away,  and  put  them  behind 
her.  Her  face  was  white  to  the  lips.  "  No,"  she  panted, 
"  you  must  not  say  it,  nor  think  it.     You  must  not." 

"  Why?  "  The  words  came  in  a  whisper,  too,  but  were 
hissed  from  between  his  teeth.  "  Have  I  again  pre- 
sumed too  much?  " 

"  I  said  not  that,"  she  cried,  biting  her  lips  hard  to 
control  a  fatal  inclination  to  burst  into  tears;  "  I  meant 
it  not  —  you  know  I  meant  it  not,"  with  an  accent  of 
reproach  that  made  his  heart  leap  up  again.  "  'Tis  — 
'tis  something  very  dififerent,  sir — it  is  our  religion.  We 
can  be  friends ;  we  shall  be,  but  never  more  than  friends. 
It  would  be  wicked,  impious.  Think  you  not  so,  too?  " 
she  added,  an  appeal  in  her  voice  which  made  Ralph's 
heart  ache. 

"  Nay,  I  do  not,"  he  said  firmly;  "  I  swear  to  God  I  do 


274 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

not.  If  that  be  your  only  reason  it  is  not  enough.  'Tis 
nothing  —  Rachel." 

He  drew  nearer,  but  she  shook  her  head,  and  he  could 
see  that  now  her  eyes  were  steady  and  her  face  like 
marble. 

"  It  is  everything  to  me." 

His  hands  dropped  to  his  side.  Once  he  tried  to 
speak,  but  no  words  would  come.  They  were  in  his 
heart,  words  of  burning  love  and  supplication,  but  as 
he  looked  on  the  white  face,  so  sorrowful,  yet  so  stead- 
fast, they  died  upon  his  lips. 

"  Good-bye,"  he  muttered,  turning  to  the  door. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  answered  softly,  so  softly  and,  oh,  so 
tenderly,  "  good-bye,  dear  friend." 

He  reached  the  door,  and  fumbled  at  the  lock.  For 
the  moment  he  was  stunned,  only  feeling  that  he  must 
go,  because  she  wished  it.  But  as  he  looked  back  once 
more  into  her  face,  so  sad  and  pitiful  for  all  its  firmness, 
his  eyes  flashed  into  hers  defiantly. 

"  I  do  your  bidding  now.  But  some  day  I  shall  return 
and  claim  your  love,  and  will  not  be  denied.  I  swear  it 
by  the  God  in  whom  we  both  believe." 

The  door  closed  behind  him  with  a  slam,  and  Rachel 
heard  his  footsteps  echo  down  the  passage.  They  did 
not  meet  again  before  the  regiment  departed. 

The  men  were  to  have  left  quarters  at  sunrise,  but 
there  were  so  many  things  that  the  younger  officers  had 
forgotten,  and  were  obliged  to  look  to  at  the  last  moment, 
that  the  morning  was  well  advanced  before  the  long 
columns  of  steel-clad  horsemen  streamed  through  the 
streets  of  Ely,  and,  leaving  the  cathedral  and  the  deanery 
on  their  left,  marched  on  towards  the  plain  brown  house 
where  the  colonel's  family  was  assembled  to  see  them 
pass. 

They  made  no  brilliant  spectacle.  They  were  plain 
yeomen  mostly,  with  a  sprinkling  of  farmers'  sons,  offi- 
cered by  squires  and  merchants  —  men  of  the  middle 

275 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

class.  There  were  no  waving  plumes  or  gilded  armour. 
Yet,  to  those  who  knew  the  faces  under  the  plain  steel 
caps,  no  bravery  or  gay  trappings  were  needed,  still  less 
to  us,  who  as  we  see  in  imagination  the  grave,  stern  men 
advance  in  their  polished  armour  and  plain  buff  coats, 
on  their  stout  horses,  shining  with  the  grooming  over- 
night, must  feel,  if  we  be  Englishmen,  a  glow  of  honest 
pride.  The  "  Ironsides "  these,  fated,  as  we  know, 
though  they  do  not,  to  withstand  and  conquer  all  their 
foes,  and  later  to  fill  the  finest  troops  in  Europe  with 
wonder  and  admiration ;  yet  plain  British  men,  sirs,  noth- 
ing more,  their  leader  only  a  stout,  broad-shoulderea 
country  gentleman,  with  harsh  features,  massive  chin, 
and  a  rugged,  melancholy  face.  Tlie  face  lights  up  now, 
and  the  heavy  lips  are  parted  with  a  tender  smile.  He 
is  passing  his  own  door,  and  his  officers,  sitting  erect 
and  gallantly,  are  saluting  with  their  swords  the  ladies 
gathered  there. 

On  sweeps  the  regiment,  four  abreast,  a  space  between 
each  troop;  and  last  of  all  comes  "  Cromwell's  Own." 

"  Oh,  look  ye,  mother;  Rachel,  look.  How  differ- 
ently they  ride  from  all  the  rest,"  cried  Betty,  pointing 
at  them,  and  forgetting  in  her  excitement  that  her  shrill 
voice  carried  far.  "There  —  there's  Ralph.  Aye,  I'd 
know  him  in  a  thousand  were  it  but  for  the  way  he  sits 
his  horse.  He  minds  me  of  a  picture  of  the  king,"  then 
to  Rachel  in  a  lov/er  voice,  oblivious  of  an  outcry  from 
her  mother  at  such  a  shocking  simile,  "  Be  he  not  the 
finest  officer  you  ever  saw  save  father?  I  know  he  be. 
Oh,  there's  the  quartermaster.  I  must  wave  my  hand 
to  him,  and  the  little  corporal  man  on  his  great  horse 
by  big  Sanctify — sure  'tis  like  a  David  and  Goliath — and, 
oh,  now,  mark  the  rest!  How  their  horses  step  together. 
Their  very  stirrups  clash  in  unison.  Hark  to  the  trum- 
pets and  the  peal  of  bells  in  their  honour,  and  the  people 
cheering  there  in  the  roadway.  I  shall  cheer  too  — 
nay,  mother,  I  must,  I  ivill.     Hurrah,  hurrah,  hurrah! " 

276 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

And  then  Betty  the  irrepressible  ran  beyond  the  door- 
step and  waved  her  handkerchief  and  shrieked  at  the  top 
of  her  voice  until  the  troop  passed  by. 

The  men  heard  her,  and  many  a  stern  face  broke  into 
a  smile;  while,  as  for  Ralph,  he  nodded  gaily,  half  turned 
his  horse,  and  gave  her  a  magnificent  salute.  Then  they 
broke  into  a  trot,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were  but  a  cloud 
of  dust  upon  the  Cambridge  road.  Many,  many  months 
were  to  pass  before  they  were  seen  on  that  road  again  — 
months  of  such  suspense  and  anxiety  that  men  grew  grey, 
and  women  aged  more  than  in  a  score  of  years  in  times 
of  peace. 

War  was  over  the  land,  desolating  it,  ruining  lives  and 
breaking  hearts  —  war,  with  its  carnage  and  waste,  its 
furious  hate  and  despair;  war,  cleansing  by  fire  and  the 
sword  the  foulness  that  had  been  growing  in  the  country 
a  century  past;  tearing  up  by  the  roots  and  casting  aside 
institutions  which  custom  had  made  men  believe  were 
divine;  the  war  of  a  nation  against  itself,  a  nation  destined 
to  stand  and  flourish  and  put  forth  greater  strength  than 
ever  it  had  done  yet;  the  war  of  a  people  for  freedom, 
won  when  all  the  fighters  were  dead,  and  mostly  forgot- 
ten ;  the  war  won  by  Oliver  Cromwell,  and  Oliver  Crom- 
well alone. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

WHEN  the  chronicler  of  a  true  romance  of  war 
sends  forth  a  regiment  with  blare  of  trumpets, 
equipped  for  fight  and  thirsting  for  it,  it  is  considered  his 
bounden  duty  to  provide  immediately  an  account  of  a 
fiercely  contested  battle,  or  series  of  battles,  in  which 
the  reader's  favourite  characters  will  do  great  deeds  of 
glory  and  renown.  Unfortunately,  hard  historical  fact 
is  too  definite  to  be  set  aside,  and  as  we  have  set  our- 
selves, so  far  as  the  limits  of  our  story  will  allow,  to  fol- 
low faithfully  the  fortunes  of  the  Ironsides  —  we  must 
tell  the  truth! 

The  regiment  marched  to  Cambridge,  but  no  further. 
The  town  and  all  the  neighbourhood  was  in  a  panic,  for 
rumour  said  that  20,000  bloodthirsty  Cavaliers  were  spur- 
ring from  the  west  to  sack  the  county  and  hang  the 
commissioners  for  the  Eastern  Counties  Association,  who 
had  been  the  persons  chiefly  instrumental  in  providing 
the  means  for  equipping  Cromwell's  regiment  and  others, 
from  the  gates  of  the  colleges.  The  welcome  given  to 
the  grim  Ely  men  may  be  imagined,  for  they  were  the 
first  soldiers  to  arrive.  Next  day,  and  for  many  days, 
men  came  pouring  in  until  12,000  had  assembled,  fairly 
armed  and  moderately  disciplined,  and  all  agog  with 
anxiety  to  meet  and  slay  Cavaliers.  But  no  Cavaliers 
appeared.  It  was  not  the  habit  of  the  marauding  portion 
of  the  royal  army  to  raid  where  disciplined  troops  had 
assembled  for  their  reception.  No  sooner  did  the  good 
citizens  of  Cambridge  discover  this  than  they  became  as 
anxious  for  the  departure  of  their  protectors  as  they  had 

278 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

been  for  their  presence,  and  in  three  weeks  only  two 
regiments  remained  —  Cromwell's  and  another. 

But  if  there  was  no  fighting  there  was  hard  work  in 
abundance.  Ralph,  to  his  great  joy,  was  requested  by 
the  commissioners,  at  Cromwell's  instance,  to  inspect  the 
fortifications  of  the  town  with  his  colonel,  and,  thanks  to 
his  studies  in  fortification  in  the  Low  Countries,  was  able 
to  point  out  their  deficiencies,  which  were  manifold,  and 
was  thereafter  appointed  a  member  of  a  committee,  with 
Cromwell  as  its  chairman,  to  set  about  putting  Cambridge 
into  a  state  of  defence.  This  work  was  completed  in  two 
months;  the  committee  received  the  thanks  of  the  town 
and  dissolved;  the  troops  were  formally  turned  into  a 
garrison  for  the  time  being,  and  their  chief  occupation 
became  the  daily  drill  and  exercise  to  perfect  their  knowl- 
edge of  the  use  of  arms  and  horses. 

A  wearing  time  it  was,  severely  trying  to  the  temper 
and  patience  of  everyone.  To  realise  the  difiiculties  of 
the  officers  of  the  regiments  and  the  irritation  of  the  men, 
it  must  be  remembered  that  they  were  drawn  from  the 
land  or  from  small  businesses,  which  were  in  very  many 
instances  going  to  rack  and  ruin  through  their  owners' 
sacrifice  for  the  opportunity  of  coming  to  blows  with  the 
absence,  also  that,  while  all  were  willing  to  make  any 
enemy  and  wresting  their  country  and  themselves  from 
the  rule  of  the  prelates  and  the  king's  favourites,  they 
had  not  bargained  for  months  of  monotonous  life  under 
military  rule,  out  of  sight  of  their  loved  ones,  living  on 
very  insufficient  food,  and  frequently  exposed  to  the 
grumbling  and  complaints  of  the  citizens  out  of  whose 
pockets  their  subsistence  came. 

These  feelings  were  not  rendered  less  acute  by  the 
reports  that  Sir  William  Waller  was  doing  great  things 
against  the  Earl  of  Stamford  in  the  west  of  England,  and 
that  in  the  north  Lord  Fairfax  and  the  Marquis  of  New- 
castle were  circling  round  one  another  like  two  bulldogs 


279 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

awaiting  but  an  opportunity  to  get  to  death  grips  and 
perhaps,  it  was  said,  decide  the  war. 

Nor  were  the  good  folk  of  Cambridge  and  the  eastern 
counties  generally  at  all  more  content  at  the  state  of 
things  than  the  soldiers.  To  men  in  other  parts  of  the 
country,  exposed  to  Rupert's  depredations  and  the  plun- 
derings  of  the  "  Newarkers,"  these  eastern  counties  — 
Norfolk,  Suffolk,  Essex,  Hertfordshire,  and  Cambridge- 
shire —  were  havens  of  security.  But  the  East  Anglians 
did  not  appreciate  their  blessings.  Trade  was  not  as 
good  as  it  had  been,  and  men  were  getting  poorer,  and 
yet  they  were  expected  to  contribute  from  their  failing 
means  towards  the  support  of  these  armed  men  and  their 
fat  horses,  which  did  nothing  but  eat  and  sleep  and  exer- 
cise at  their  expense.  In  one  thing  the  soldiers  and 
citizens  heartily  agreed,  if  we  except  the  majority  of 
Cromwell's  regiment :  they  were  unanimous  in  laying  the 
responsibility  for  all  their  troubles  upon  the  shoulders 
of  their  leaders,  and  in  especial  upon  Colonel  Cromwell. 

Was  it  not  Cromwell  who,  sitting  on  every  committee 
throughout  the  association,  pressed  hard  and  ever  harder 
for  more  money,  more  food,  more  arms  and  ammunition 
for  the  soldiers,  and  even  had  the  hardihood  to  declare 
in  a  manner  no  one  cared  to  contradict,  that  were  the 
things  he  advised  not  done  he  might  as  well  disband  his 
men,  and  invite  the  malignants  to  do  their  will  on  Cam- 
bridge and  devastate  the  country?  A  most  pestilent, 
unconvinceable,  obstinate,  and  overbearing  man,  thought 
the  citizens  then ;  as  for  the  soldiers  —  always  except- 
ing those  who  knew  him  and  saw  him  daily  in  drill 
and  camp  —  was  it  not  Cromwell  who  drew  up  a  code 
of  regulations  against  the  plundering  and  drunkenness, 
blasphemy  and  disobedience,  so  stringent,  that  if  a  man 
swore  he  was  fined  a  shilling,  and  if  the  least  complaint 
was  made  by  a  citizen  of  rude  behaviour  there  was  flog- 
ging for  the  first  ofifence,  and  stripping  of  arms  before 
the  troop  and  ignominious  dismissal  for  the  second,  and 

280 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

even,  if  the  crime  were  wounding  an  unarmed  man,  or 
lewdly  threatening  a  woman,  hanging? 

Aye,  it  was  Cromwell,  and  Cromwell  alone.  But  the 
things  that  he  directed  to  be  done  were  done.  The  men 
were  fed  somehow  and  decently  housed ;  their  arms  were 
sufficient  for  their  use,  and  their  horses  sound  and  in 
good  condition;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  depredations 
or  lawlessness  on  the  part  of  the  troopers  were  almost 
unknown.  For  of  Cromwell  it  might  be  written  that  all 
his  life  he  never  made  a  rule,  or  caused  one  to  be  made, 
but  he  enforced  it  to  the  bitter  end,  and  exacted  full  pen- 
alty for  its  disobedience,  whether  the  culprit  were  a  com- 
mon trooper  or  His  Majesty  the  King  of  France. 

In  this  work  Ralph  played  a  subordinate  but  very 
active  part.  His  own  troop  being  above  suspicion  both 
as  to  discipline  and  conduct,  and  their  drill  requiring 
little  supervision,  Cromwell  made  use  of  him  as  an  aide- 
de-camp  when  instructions  or  suggestions  had  to  be 
delivered  to  the  commander  of  other  regiments,  and  at 
times  as  his  proxy  on  the  committees  of  defence.  The 
intercourse  between  them  was  strictly  confined  to  busi- 
ness, but  the  fascination  of  Cromwell's  strength  and 
patience  to  Ralph's  eager,  sympathetic  temperament 
grew  steadily  as  the  weeks  passed,  until  it  became  a 
byword  among  the  regiments,  both  officers  and  men,  that 
the  least  wish  or  suggestion  from  the  colonel  was  to  his 
captain  more  sacred  and  binding  than  any  laws  made  by 
God  or  man. 

In  such  work  as  this,  with  now  and  then  a  dash  at  a 
town  or  village  where  Royalism  showed  signs  of  fer- 
ment, quenched  at  a  blow  by  Cromwell's  dragoons,  did 
the  spring  pass,  and  the  early  summer,  and  then  at  last, 
when  the  discontent  of  the  soldiers,  in  spite  of  Cromwell, 
rose  almost  to  semi-mutiny,  and  the  committees  contrib- 
uting were  sinking  week  by  week,  the  news  flew  through 
the  country-side  that  the  Parliament  had  ordered  the 
army  of  the  eastern  counties  to  move  northwards  to  the 

281 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

succor  of  Lincolnshire,  now  swarming  with  malignants 
daily  growing  in  power  and  confidence,  and  that  pend- 
ing the  arrival  of  Lord  Willoughby  of  Parham,  now  in 
Gainsborough  and  besieged  there,  Colonel  Cromwell  was 
to  be  in  command.  Among  many  of  the  officers  there 
were  serious  apprehensions  that  the  men  would  refuse 
to  march;  perhaps  some  of  these  officers,  smarting  under 
the  pressure  of  hard  and  disagreeable  work  Cromwell 
had  laid  upon  them,  would  have  been  not  altogether 
sorry,  but  be  that  as  it  may,  they  were  entirely  mistaken. 

The  men  were  Englishmen,  and,  grumble  as  they 
might  at  drill  and  discipline,  the  moment  they  knew  that 
the  time  for  action  was  at  hand,  and  that  they  were  to 
try  their  strength  against  Newarkers,  Camdeners,  and 
possibly  even  the  Marquis  of  Newcastle's  famous  army, 
novv^  pressing  Lord  Fairfax  hard,  they  forgot  their  griev- 
ances and  troubles,  received  their  scanty  rations  with 
great  cheerfulness,  and  gave  thanks  to  God. 

On  Thursday,  July  24th,  on  the  dawn  of  a  hot  sum- 
mer's day,  the  regiments  marched  quietly  northwards. 
No  one  knew  except  their  commanders  precisely  where 
they  were  going  or  what  they  were  going  to  do.  But 
they  were  to  fight;  that  was  enough.  They  marched 
until  noon,  when  a  halt  was  called,  scouts  sent  out,  and 
orders  given  for  men  and  horses  to  take  their  fill  of  food 
and  rest  for  two  hours. 

"  Ye  will  all  need  it,  lads,  mark  me,"  Cromwell  said, 
walking  among  them  as  they  settled  down.  His  face 
was  pleasant  and  cheerful,  his  manner  kindly  as  a  father's. 
Cromwell  in  garrison  and  Cromwell  campaigning  were 
two  different  men.  "  I  say  you  will  want  all  the  strength 
and  skill  that  the  Lord  hath  given  you,"  he  added,  "  See 
it  be  forthcoming  presently.  But  rest  ye  now;  eat  and 
drink  and  take  your  ease.  In  two  hours  or  less  our  task 
beginneth.  And  it  will  be  a  heavy  one,  though  not  too 
heavy  for  such  men  as  ye." 

Then  he  retired  to  his  own  quarters,  and  swallowed  a 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

hasty  meal,  mounted  a  fresh  horse,  and  with  his  major, 
Whalley,  a  bhiff,  plain-mannered,  straight-forward 
soldier,  and  Ralph,  he  rode  out  some  distance  from 
camp. 

The  day  was  hot  and  hazy,  and  it  was  not  easy  to 
see  far,  but  when  they  reached  the  top  of  a  hill  Cromwell 
pointed  to  the  north,  and  his  officers  saw  what  he  saw 
and  needed  no  words  to  tell  them  what  it  meant.  A  vol- 
ume of  smoke  was  resting  like  a  long,  low  cloud  over 
a  grove  of  trees,  another  creeping  like  a  snake  over  a 
bit  of  sunny  valley. 

"Plunder  of  the  helpless,  rapine,  murder!  O,  God, 
hold  not  Thy  peace.  For  lo,  they  that  hate  Thee  have 
lifted  up  the  hand;  they  are  confederated  against  Thee. 
O  my  God,  make  them  like  a  wheel;  as  the  stubble  before 
the  wind,  as  the  fire  burneth  a  wood,  and  as  the  flame 
setteth  the  mountains  on  fire,  so  persecute  them.  Let 
them  be  confounded,  and  troubled  for  ever;  yea,  let  them 
be  put  to  shame  and  perish.  Whalley,  bid  the  men  to 
saddle;  haste  ye  down  to  them.  They  have  had  rest  eno' 
and  must  set  to  their  arms  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  and 
stay  this  devil's  work." 

A  few  minutes  of  bustle  and  running  to  and  fro,  a  few 
brisk  words  of  command,  and  the  men  were  in  saddle, 
ready  for  anything.  Cromwell  led  them  in  person.  He 
knew  the  country  and  had  reliable  information  of  the 
movements  of  the  enemy.  The  Royalists  also  received 
timely  notice  of  the  Puritans'  advance,  but  they  did  not 
know  yet  with  whom  they  had  to  deal.  The  Cavaliers 
were  drawn  up  on  an  open  heath,  and  as  the  East 
Anglians  formed  in  line  of  battle  charged  them  in  loose 
order,  gaily  and  confidently.  The  Ironsides  withstood 
them  as  a  rock  withstands  a  tidal  wave,  and,  like  that 
wave,  the  Cavaliers  were  dashed  asunder  by  the  shock 
of  their  own  assault,  scattering  to  right  and  left  of  the 
solid  mass  of  men  whose  ranks  they  could  not  pierce. 
Then  from  Cromwell's  lips  came  the  word  to  charge, 

28^ 


CROAI WELL'S  OWN 

and  with  one  deep-resounding  shout  of  "  God  with  us," 
the  Parhament  men  leapt  upon  their  foes  and  crushed 
them.  In  half  an  hour  the  Royalists  were  flying  head- 
long across  the  heath,  many  cut  down  as  they  ran,  the 
rest  to  take  refuge  in  a  great  stronghold  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, Burleigh  House.  By  the  time  the  sun  had 
set  this  stronghold  was  surrounded  and  blockaded,  and 
while  the  men  had  some  refreshments  Cromwell  called 
a  council  of  war  to  decide  its  fate. 

The  officers  were  of  opinion  that  they  had  not  force 
enough  at  present  and  should  send  for  more  artillery. 
Cromwell  listened  to  all  they  had  to  say,  then  quietly 
unfolded  his  own  plan  of  campaign.  At  the  first  streak 
of  dawn,  at  that  time  of  year  about  3  a.  m.,  the  siege  was 
to  begin.  Before  night  the  house  must  be  taken  and 
the  men  allowed  a  few  hours'  rest.  They  would  then 
march  to  Grantham,  forty-two  miles,  receive  reinforce- 
ments there,  and  press  on  without  delay  to  Gainsborough, 
thirteen  miles  further  on,  to  relieve  Lord  Willoughby. 

The  ofhcers,  with  the  exception  of  Whalley  and  Ralph, 
looked  at  one  another  aghast. 

"  'Tis  beyond  all  reason,"  an  old  veteran  exclaimed. 
"  Colonel,  dost  not  know  that  thy  troopers  be  only  flesh 
and  blood?" 

"  Sir,"  Cromwell  answered  gently,  "  I  be  comimander 
here,  and  what  I  desire  will  be  carried  out.  If  less  than 
this  be  done  the  cause  hereabouts  will  perish.  This 
cause  is  God's;  if  He  be  in  earnest  in  this  business  He 
will  give  us  the  strength  needful.  If  not.  His  will  be 
done.  Captain  Dangerfield,  to  you  I  give  the  task  of 
placing  the  ordnance  for  the  breach;  Major  Whalley, 
you  will  lead  the  charge  when  the  guns  have  done  their 
work.  Gentlemen,  the  council  is  at  end.  When  the 
trumpet  sounds  let  each  do  his  part,  and  God  be  with 
ye  all." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

BURLEIGH  HOUSE  fell  before  the  sun  went  down. 
It  was  a  bitter  struggle,  for  the  terms  Cromwell 
offered  were  refused,  and  no  quarter  was  given  to  any 
found  with  arms  in  their  hands.  The  Parliament  men 
had  seen  the  burning  homesteads  as  they  rode;  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  country  people  had  goaded  them  to  fury; 
and  there  was  no  mercy  in  their  hearts  that  day. 

When  it  was  over  they  slept  with  their  arms  beside 
them,  too  tired  even  to  eat;  but  at  dawn  they  roused,  ate 
heartily,  and  set  forth  on  horses  fresh  after  a  good  rest, 
and  so  marched  briskly  northwards  towards  Grantham, 
covering  the  distance,  with  short  rests  for  food,  in  twenty- 
four  hours.  At  Grantham  they  stayed  an  hour,  break- 
fasted, and  picked  up  300  men  from  Nottingham  and  a 
train  of  waggons  laden  with  food  and  ammunition  for 
Gainsborough.  This  town  was  still  thirteen  miles  away, 
the  weather  was  hot,  and  the  roads  dusty.  Presently  the 
pace  began  to  flag,  and  from  officers  and  men  alike  an 
unspoken  prayer  went  forth  that  the  Royalists  around 
Gainsborough  might  have  raised  the  siege.  On  they 
marched,  however,  steadily,  until  within  two  miles  of 
the  town;  then  a  halt  was  called,  and  it  was  whispered 
that  a  score  of  pickeerers  Cromwell  had  thrown  out 
ahead  had  returned  to  report  that  the  enemy  was  await- 
ing them  in  force. 

Then  Cromwell  himself  rode  down  the  lines.  "  Men," 
he  said,  "  you  have  done  marvellous  well.  In  so  far  as 
I  am  aware,  not  one  hath  faltered  through  the  fatigue 
of  this  long  march.  Now  we  are  within  sight  of  our 
goal.     Praise  be  to  God!"     He  doffed  his  hat,  and  his 

285 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

words  were  greeted  with  a  heartfelt  "  Amen."  "  We  be, 
indeed,  but  one  mile  and  a  few  furlongs  from  Gainsbor- 
ough town,  wherein  a  garrison  of  godly  men  faint  for 
lack  of  the  provisions  we  have  brought  with  us  from 
Grantham.  Yet  the  Lord  hath  not  yet  released  us  from 
our  travail.  Between  us  and  the  town  lieth  the  enemy, 
proud  and  scornful  as  he  ever  is,  assured  that  thou,  being 
aweary  with  marching,  wilt  shrink  from  the  issue  and 
turn  and  fly  before  him.  Even  now  " —  he  raised  his 
sword  and  pointed  to  the  brow  of  a  sandy  knoll  of  heather 
and  gorse  a  few  hundred  yards  away  —  "  see,  they  come 
upon  us  with  their  pots  glistening  in  the  sunshine.  Men, 
we  must  charge  them  home,  drive  them  before  us  as  the 
rabbits  yonder  flee  into  their  holes.     Art  ready?  " 

His  voice  rang  out  over  the  field,  harsh,  sonorous, 
and  soul-stirring,  and,  as  if  by  magic,  the  faces  of  the 
weary  men  brightened,  a  hoarse  shout  of  approval  came 
from  the  parched  throats,  and  backs  straightened  under 
the  heavy  armour  —  the  men  were  ready! 

Cromwell  beckoned  to  Ralph. 

"  Order  fifty  dragconers  to  advance  unto  the  foot  of 
the  hill  and  open  fire.  Bid  them  not  dismount,  but 
advance  slowly, firing;  for  their  support  send  one  Lincoln- 
shire troop  and  four  of  ours ;  Brandreth's  and  Sugden's, 
Crook's  and  Farrington's.  Tell  them  to  charge  briskly 
and  yield  not  a  foot.  The  rest  will  follow  as  reserve. 
Let  them  act  swiftly ;  the  malignants  descend  the  hill." 

Ralph  followed  his  colonel's  eye,  then  rode  for  his  life, 
for  the  ridge  was  black  with  armed  men.  A  few  min- 
utes later  the  dragooners,*  in  loose  order,  were  toiling 
up  a  steep  incline  of  yielding  sandy  soil,  covered  with 
rabbit  burrows,  firing  as  they  went.  It  was  a  hard  task, 
for  with  a  flash  of  swords  and  a  yell  the  advance  guard 
of  the  Royalists  above  dashed  down  upon  them  at  speed, 
and  several  saddles  were  emptied  on  either  side,  but  the 


*  Mounted  infantry  carrying  short  guns. 
2S6 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

dragooners  held  their  ground  stubbornly;  and  now  in 
soHd  order,  advancing  at  a  steady  trot  up  the  hill, 
came  400  Lincoln  men.  Back  went  the  Royalists' 
"  forlorn  hope "  before  them,  but  only  to  turn  and 
charge  again,  reinforced  by  200  men.  It  was  a  stiff 
struggle,  but  the  Lincolners  inch  by  inch  forced 
their  enemies  back  to  the  hilltop.  And  then,  for 
a  moment,  their  hearts  failed  them,  for  ahead,  not 
more  than  a  hundred  yards  off,  was  another  large  body 
of  horse,  and  still  further  to  the  rear  a  regiment  of 
cuirassiers.  But  as  they  drew  rein  and  paused  to  breathe 
their  horses  for  the  onslaught  that  was  coming  they 
heard  the  steady  tramp  of  the  Ely  regiment  behind  them, 
Cromwell  himself  leading  the  right  wing. 

"  Upon  them,"  he  cried,  as  the  long  line  overtopped 
the  hill  and  the  pace  quickened  to  a  gallop,  "  steadily, 
steadily!  Lose  not  your  order,  but  hold  together  —  all 
together  —  charge! " 

Like  an  avalanche  they  swept  down  the  gentle  slope, 
with  a  crash  broadsword  fell  upon  breastplate  and  hel- 
met, and  the  real  battle  of  the  day  began.  These  Cav- 
aliers were  no  drunken  plunderers  expecting  an  easy 
victory.  They  were  veteran  men-at-arms,  well  mounted 
and  well  led.  For  some  minutes,  despite  the  impetus 
the  charge  of  the  Ironsides  had  received  from  the  fall 
of  the  ground,  the  result  was  doubtful,  but  at  last  one 
Royalist  troop  gave  way,  another,  and  another,  and  then 
of  a  sudden  all  wheeled  and  fled,  and  a  yell  of  exultation 
and  joy  went  up  from  the  men  of  the  Parliament.  Their 
blood  was  foaming  in  their  veins;  to  cut,  and  hack,  and 
slay  for  the  glory  of  the  Lord  their  one  desire.  The 
enemy  must  be  destroyed,  crushed  out  of  existence.  So 
felt  the  men,  and  their  horses,  as  excited  as  their  riders, 
responded  gallantly  to  the  spur.  Few  noticed  that 
though  the  squadrons  whom  they  had  conquered  were 
flying  for  their  lives,  yet  to  their  left  rear,  standing 
firm  and  vigilant,  with  tightly  drawn  rein  and  sword 
points  flashing  in  the  sun,  a  regiment  of  cuirassiers,  a 

287 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

compact  and  perfectly  appointed  array  of  horsemen,  was 
awaiting  its  opportunity.  How  they  smiled,  those  court 
gallants,  as  they  saw  their  hated  enemies  ride  recklessly 
past  and  give  themselves  into  their  hands.  How  eagerly, 
though  all  in  silence,  they  obeyed  their  leader,  General 
Cavendish,  as  he  raised  himself  in  his  stirrups  and  drew 
his  sword.  "  Now,  gentlemen,  we  have  the  Roundhead 
dogs.     Charge,  and  God  save  the  king!  " 

They  charged  with  closed  ranks,  and  with  deadly 
swiftness  and  precision,  fell  on  the  flank  of  the  Lincoln- 
ers,  who  had  just  been  recalled  by  Cromwell  from  the 
chase.  Yet  the  Lincolners  were  sturdy  fellows,  and  at 
sight  of  their  new  enemy,  with  a  hoarse  cry  of  defiance, 
they  turned  about  and  met  them  bravely.  But  they  went 
down  before  the  cuirassiers  as  grass  before  the  scythe; 
they  were  thrown  into  confusion,  beaten  to  pieces.  And 
now  —  but  what  is  this?  Another  battle-cry,  as  confi- 
dent as  that  of  Cavendish,  and  of  a  grimmer  tone;  a  rush 
of  galloping  hoofs,  regular  and  rhythmic,  and  then  a 
terrible  crash  of  steel  on  the  flank  and  rear  of  the  cuiras- 
siers. The  biter  was  bit.  In  the  excitement  of  watch- 
ing his  own  men  fly  and  the  regiments  chasing  them, 
General  Cavendish  had  not  perceived  that  Cromwell  had 
halted  three  troops  the  instant  the  fight  on  the  hill  was 
over,  and  awaited  his  action  while  the  Lincolners  dashed 
on.  These  troops  were  the  first  and  two  others.  They 
were  only  one  hundred  and  eighty  men  all  told,  and  the 
Cavaliers  numbered  six  hundred,  but  they  were  the  pick 
of  Cromwell's  force,  and  with  the  Lincolners  in  front  and 
these  in  rear,  the  regiment  of  cuirassiers  was  as  helpless 
as  a  buffalo  with  a  leopard  on  its  back.  Silently  the  Iron- 
sides fought.  They  gave  no  respite  and  no  chance.  In 
vain  the  Royalists  tried  to  form  a  new  front.  In  vain 
their  officers,  spurring  into  the  midst  of  the  Ironsides  and 
fighting  with  desperate  energy,  sought  to  gain  time  for 
their  men  to  rally  and  for  their  reserves  to  stiffen  the 
yielding  line.  No  individual  efforts  could  stay  the  fierce 
vigour  of  Cromvv'ell's  chosen  troopers.     The  cuirassiers 

288 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

gave  way  before  the  weight  of  their  serried  line,  sweeping 
onward  with  the  swing  and  force  of  an  Atlantic  roller. 
In  an  hour  not  a  Cavalier  remained  upon  the  field;  Gen- 
eral Cavendish  was  dead,  and  the  road  to  Gainsborough 
was  open. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  nearly  noon  that  the  gates 
of  the  beleaguered  town,  with  loud  rejoicing  from  its 
citizens,  opened  wide  to  receive  the  weary,  mud-stained 
victors  and  their  train  of  powder  and  provisions.  Free 
quarters  were  immediately  offered  to  the  men,  and  Lord 
Willoughby,  the  commandant  of  the  town  and  titular 
chief  of  the  army  of  the  eastern  counties,  received  the 
ofificers  in  his  own  house,  and  ordered  a  collation  to  be 
spread  for  them. 

Lord  Willoughby  of  Parham  was  a  slight,  handsome 
man,  with  bright  eyes  and  a  gallant  bearing,  which  Ralph 
liked,  but  with  a  cynical  manner  of  speech.  He  was 
dressed  in  correct  Puritan  fashion,  but  there  was  an 
elegance  in  the  cut  of  his  doublet  of  finest  black  cloth, 
a  neatness  and  spotlessness  about  his  attire  generally, 
which  denoted  that  the  fine  gentleman  in  him  was  only 
sleeping.  Ralph,  glancing  at  Cromwell,  could  hardly 
help  smiling  at  the  difference  between  the  two  men. 
They  sat  together  at  the  head  of  the  table,  their  of^cers 
at  the  side,  Whalley  at  my  lord's  right  hand,  Ralph  on 
Cromwell's  left,  and  it  was  easy  for  Ralph,  who  knew 
the  meaning  of  every  expression  and  turn  of  his  colonel's 
face,  to  see  that  no  love  was  lost  between  them.  Noth- 
ing, however,  could  exceed  my  lord's  courtesy,  or  the 
neatness  and  aptness  of  his  compliments  to  "  his  most 
worthy  and  gallant  friend  "  when  he  drank  his  health. 
Ralph  was  curious  to  hear  how  Cromwell  would  respond, 
but  he  never  had  the  opportunity,  for  as  the  colonel  rose 
to  his  feet,  glass  in  hand,  the  door  of  the  room  was  hur- 
riedly opened,  and  a  trooper,  covered  with  dust  and 
foam  and  sweat,  stumbled  in,  and  clumsily  saluting,  cried 
that  troops  in  large  numbers  were  approaching  from  the 
north. 

19  28Q 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

The  commanders  looked  at  one  another,  Cromwell 
quaffing  his  wine  in  silence  and  waiting  for  Lord  Wil- 
loughby  to  speak.     His  lordship  smiled. 

"  A  false  alarm,  I  think.  These  poor  rogues  of  mine 
be  so  dazed  with  awaiting  succour,  which  at  last  hath 
come,  that  they  see  Cavaliers  under  every  bush,  and  if 
sheep  wander  down  a  hill  they  report  a  troop  of  New- 
arkers  at  the  gates.  Cholmley,"  to  one  of  his  officers, 
"  take  this  man,  swill  his  throat  with  small  ale,  and  listen 
to  his  tale  while  we  refresh.  'Fore  Heaven,  it  is  hard 
indeed  for  a  man  not  to  be  able  to  enjoy  his  wine." 

"  With  your  leave,  my  lord,"  Cromwell  said,  "  I  will 
question  the  messenger.  It  seemeth  to  me  an  urgent 
matter."  Then,  without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  turned 
to  the  soldier. 

"  How  far  be  they  off?  " 

"  A  mile  by  this,  sir,  I  swear  not  more." 

"Didst  see  their  strength?" 

"  I  counted  six  troops  of  horse,  and  nigh  a  regiment 
of  foot." 

"  No  more?  " 

"  No,  colonel." 

Cromwell  rose. 

"  It  would  appear,  my  lord,"  he  said  with  dry  polite- 
ness, "  that  these  are  not  sheep.  Hark !  There  be  some 
more  awake  than  we  —  our  men !  " 

There  was  a  rattle  of  hoofs  and  clink  of  steel  bridles. 
The  troops  were  hastily  forming  outside  the  house. 

Willoughby  was  on  his  feet  now,  calling  for  his  helmet. 

"  Nay,  there  is  no  need,"  Cromwell  said  at  the  door. 
"  Finish  thy  dinner,  sir.  Lend  me  five  hundred  foot, 
and  I  will  see  to  this  force." 

Willoughby  laughed. 

"Thou'rt  truly  modest,  colonel,  as  indeed  I  have 
always  heard.  I  have  but  four  hundred,  and  can  ill  spare 
those." 

"Four  hundred,  then,"  Cromwell  said  impatiently; 
"  but  do  not  delay." 

290 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  hurried  away;  the  foot  —  pike  and  musketeers  — 
were  hastily  assembled  and  marched  cheerfully  out  of 
the  north  gate,  with  the  horse  of  CromweH's  regiment 
on  either  flank.  They  found  the  enemy  approaching  at 
a  steady  pace,  but  not  apparently  disposed  to  fight.  One 
charge  of  the  cavalry  drove  back  their  advanced  guard, 
and  they  retreated  rapidly  to  the  crest  of  a  high  hill, 
too  quickly  for  any  effective  pursuit  from  the  weary 
horse  of  the  victors.  This  hill  was  steeper  and  loftier 
than  the  battle-ground  of  the  morning,  and  nothing- 
could  be  seen  beyond  it.  Cromwell,  giving  orders  that 
the  enemy  were  to  be  followed  for  a  few  miles,  but  warily, 
returned  to  Gainsborough  to  consult  with  Willoughby  as 
to  the  future  destination  of  his  force.  He  had  barely 
reached  the  town  when  a  message  came  that  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hill  were  a  large  force  both  of  horse 
and  foot,  among  which  had  been  detected  the  red-coats 
of  the  Marquis  of  Newcastle's  own  regiment,  proving 
that  Cromwell's  tired  horse  and  the  Gainsborough  regi- 
ment of  foot  were  opposed  by  the  greater  part  of  the 
royal  army.  A  hurried  consultation  followed,  and 
Cromwell  rode  back  at  headlong  pace  to  recall  the  foot. 
But  it  was  too  late.  The  Royalists  had  advanced  briskly, 
and  the  Gainsborough  men  were  retreating  in  a  disorder 
which  grew  worse  each  minute.  jSfothing  could  save 
them  unless  Newcastle's  advance  was  checked,  and  to  do 
this  there  were  but  twelve  weary  troops  of  horse.  But 
Cromwell  was  at  the  front,  and  his  orders  flew  right  and 
left. 

"  Major  Whalley,  charge  with  two  troops.  When  thou 
hast  broken  their  first  line,  retire;  and  thou,  Dangerfield, 
and,  Brandreth,  do  the  same  with  thine.  Thus  by 
removes  we  may  yet  get  in  with  safety  to  the  town.  Seek 
no  more  than  to  baffle  their  advance.  God  be  with  ye; 
march." 

As  the  orders  were  given,  so  were  they  carried  out, 
though  each  trooper  felt  that  he  was  going  to  his  death. 
Twelve  troops  of  exhausted  men  and  worn-out  horses 

291 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

against  an  army  fresh  and  vigorous,  led  by  a  great 
soldier;  and  in  the  rear  of  the  Parliament  horse  the  dis- 
ordered foot,  whose  confusion  acted  like  fresh  blood  to 
whet  the  Royalist  appetites.  It  was  a  manoeuvre  so 
strange  and  unexpected  that  many  of  the  Cavaliers 
thought  the  enemy  had  taken  leave  of  their  senses. 
Then  Whalley's  troops  charged,  and  their  onset,  though 
but  at  the  trot,  was  so  well  and  compactly  made  that 
they  broke  the  first  line  fairly,  and  before  they  could  be 
overwhelmed  by  the  solid  mass  behind,  at  sharp  word 
of  command,  they  wheeled  and  swept  aside.  And  when 
the  Royalists,  with  triumphant  cheer,  re-formed  their 
first  line  and  spurred  on  to  the  pursuit,  they  were  met 
by  a  fresh  handful  of  troopers,  and  they  were  once  more 
beaten  back.  So  the  struggle  went  on,  the  Ironsides, 
dogged  and  silent,  retreating  inch  by  inch;  the  advancing 
Royalists,  loud  in  their  defiance,  chafing  furiously  at  the 
delay,  but  unable  to  crush  their  ..stubborn,  well-handled 
foes.  At  last  the  signal  came  that  the  foot  were  safe 
within  the  walls  of  Gainsborough;  and  with  one  last 
charge  the  Ironsides  turned  and  followed,  leaving  New- 
castle's army  growling  like  a  hungry  lion  for  the  prey 
which  had  escaped  its  jaws. 

Yet  there  was  no  rest  for  either  man  or  horse.  In  a 
few  hours  Gainsborough  would  be  surrounded,  and 
Cromwell  and  his  regiments  retreated  southwards. 
They  left  the  town  disheartened  and  miserable.  It 
seemed  as  if  all  their  exertions  had  been  in  vain  and 
their  blood  spilt  for  naught.  But  they  were  mistaken. 
With  the  fall  of  Cavendish,  his  army  had  dispersed,  and 
Gainsborough,  though  once  more  beleaguered,  was  now 
well  victualled  and  provided  with  good  store  of  ammu- 
nition; and  in  the  days  that  followed,  wherever  the  Mar- 
quis of  Newcastle  made  inquiry,  whether  from  the  relics 
of  Cavendish's  force  or  from  his  own  troops,  he  heard 
the  same  account.  A  regiment  of  Parliament  horse,  as 
well  mounted  and  armed  as  the  best  accoutred  cuiras- 
siers, with  a  discipline  and  a  method  of  fighting  never 

292 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

heard  of  hitherto  among  the  Roundhead  cavalry,  led  by 
a  man  with  a  heavy  face  and  rasping  voice,  one  Colonel 
Cromwell,  of  Ely,  carried  all  before  it. 

"  Such  an  ill-favoured  rascal,"  one  of  the  captains  said 
within  hearing  of  the  Marquis,  "  that  I  could  have  struck 
him  down  once  in  the  push,  but,  by  my  faith,  I  was  feared 
my  sword  would  be  turned  by  the  wart  on  his  nose." 

"  Sir,"  said  his  commander  in  a  tone  that  quenched 
the  ready  laughter  of  the  stafT,  "  should  it  ever  be  my 
fortune  to  take  prisoner  the  man  you  honour  with  your 
raillery,  I  trust  he  will  give  me  the  privilege  of  sitting  at 
my  own  table.  An'  we  be  not  careful  the  day  is  drawing 
nigh  when  we  shall  know  this  Cromwell  as  the  first  gen- 
eral of  horse  in  England." 


CHAPTER  XXXIl 

THE  regiment  marched  to  Huntingdon,  and  remained 
there  to  recruit  and  rest.  They  reached  the  town 
late  in  the  evening.  Thanks  to  the  forethought  of  their 
commander,  shelter  and  food  were  ready  for  them,  and 
no  labour  awaited  the  worn-out  men.  Cromwell,  Whal- 
ley,  and  Ralph  were  quartered  in  the  same  house,  and 
ate  their  supper  in  tired  silence.  Before  it  was  over 
Ralph  noticed  Cromwell  eyeing  him  askance,  and  knew 
that  there  was  work  for  him  to  do.  He  rose  and  stood 
at  attention  with  a  wan  smile,  for  he  was  terribly  weary. 

"Your  orders,  colonel?" 

Cromwell  motioned  him  aside. 

"  Nay,  get  thee  to  a  couch.  Thy  face  is  white  as  this 
napery  here,"  lifting  the  tablecloth.  "  Pish,  get  thee  to 
rest,  I  say." 

Ralph  did  not  move. 

"  You  have  a  message  or  letter  to  deliver  that  is 
urgent,  sir.     I  am  ready." 

"  Whalley,"  cried  Cromwell  with  mock  anger,  "  this 
man  be  a  spy  upon  my  thoughts.  What  say  you? 
Ought  he  not  to  be  arrested?  " 

"  He  is  in  the  right,  sir,"  was  the  blunt  rejoinder. 
"  But  an  he  be  too  weary  give  me  thy  message." 

"  Worse  and  worse,"  Cromwell  said,  a  pleased  smile 
lurking  round  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  "  major  and 
captain  of  a  piece.  Beshrew  me,  Ralph,  but  it  cuts  me 
to  the  heart  to  bid  thee,  sir,  yet  it  is  imperative.  Lay 
thee  down,  man,  for  half  an  hour.  Whalley,  seek  you  a 
fresh  horse  for  him.  He  must  to  Cambridge  with  letters 
to  the  commissioners." 

He  drew  out  writing  materials,  and  while  Ralph, 
294 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

wrapped  in  his  cloak,  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  the 
major  went  to  find  a  horse,  Cromwell  wrote  with  set  lips 
and  frowning  brow.  The  half-hour  passed;  the  horse 
was  ready,  and  Cromwell's  letter  sealed  and  directed. 

"  This  is  to  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  Chairman  of  the  Asso- 
ciation. Place  it  in  his  hands,  and  see  to  it  that  he 
calleth  a  meeting  of  the  rest  this  night,  and  leave  him 
not  until  you  have  assurance  that  the  help  I  demand  is 
forthcoming.  Drive  into  their  minds  the  extreme  tn-g- 
ency  of  our  position  and  the  true  condition  of  affairs. 
Though  these  men  fear  God,  and  have  honest  minds, 
they  are  timid  and  tight-handed  through  narrowness  of 
view.  Rouse  them.  I  might  have  sent  Whalley,  but 
he  hath  not  thy  power  of  tongue.  Thrust  upon  them 
the  facts  with  all  the  eloquence  that  is  in  you.  Remind 
them  that  Fairfax  is  beaten  into  Hull,  Waller  crushed 
at  Lansdown  Heath,  Bristol  taken  by  Rupert.  Tell  them 
that  no  place  in  England  owns  allegiance  to  Parliament 
now  but  the  eastern  counties  and  London.  This,  put 
forth  as  you  will  express  it,  should  strike  some  fire  into 
their  souls.  But  mind  you,  lad,"  grasping  Ralph  by  the 
arm,  and  speaking  with  as  much  warmth  as  if  he  were 
addressing  the  commissioners,  "  waste  not  your  breath 
with  accounts  of  the  urgency  of  our  own  danger;  that 
will  not  move  them.  They  hold  it  is  but  a  soldier's 
business  to  be  killed.  But  show  them  that  if  they  give 
us  not  the  means  to  stay  Newcastle's  advance  their 
homes  will  be  ablaze  and  their  towns  laid  waste." 

The  night  was  clear  and  cold,  and  Ralph,  with  a  fresh 
horse  under  him,  covered  the  distance  in  two  hours. 
He  had  a  racking  headache,  but  Cromwell's  words  had 
roused  him  to  so  keen  a  sense  of  the  danger  of  the  coun- 
try that  for  the  time  his  weariness  disappeared. 

Sir  Francis  Bacon  had  been  in  bed  some  time  when 
Ralph  arrived;  but  a  message  from  a  scared  servant  that 
an  officer  had  business  with  him  of  life  and  death 
brought  that  worthy  gentleman  into  the  hall  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  after  a  hurried  Vvord  or  two  with  Ralph 

295 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  messenger  was  despatched  to  the  houses  of  the  other 
commissioners,  summoning  them  to  an  immediate  con- 
ference. Ralph  was  regaled  with  bread  and  wine,  and 
had  begun  to  answer  some  eager  questions  from  Sir 
Francis,  when  the  door  opened,  and  who  should  enter 
but  Isaac  Hepworth.  Sir  Francis  smiled  an  embarr- 
assed smile.  He  was  an  amiable  and  peace-loving  man, 
forced  into  his  present  position  by  a  high  sense  of  duty. 
Hepworth  was  his  intimate  friend,  so  was  Cromwell.  He 
knew  all  about  the  feud  between  them,  and  had  done 
his  very  best  to  pour  oil  upon  the  troubled  waters.  It 
was  an  evil  fate  which  decreed  that  the  bone  of  conten- 
tion, the  Socinian  himself,  should  be  the  messenger 
chosen  by  Cromwell  in  this  crisis,  and  that  Hepworth 
should  be  staying  in  the  house.  Sir  Francis  was  thor- 
oughly loyal  to  Cromwell,  but  foresaw  the  extreme  diffi- 
culty of  persuading  his  colleagues  to  agree  with  his 
views,  with  Hepworth  present  to  dispute  them.  Yet 
there  was  nothing  to  be  done.  The  minister  was  far  too 
influential  a  person  to  be  banished  from  the  conference. 
Events  must  take  their  course. 

Ralph,  at  sight  of  the  minister's  entrance,  rose  and 
bowed  very  stiffly.  Hepworth  formally  acknowledged 
the  salute,  and  addressed  Sir  Francis. 

"  I  hear  there  be  news  from  the  army." 

The  Chairman  of  Commissioners  handed  him  Crom- 
well's letter, 

"  Assuredly,  yes,  reverend  friend.  This  gallant  offi- 
cer must  have  much  to  tell  us.  But  he  may,  perchance, 
prefer  to  wait  until  the  commissioners  arrive.  Read 
this." 

Hepworth,  without  again  looking  at  Ralph,  or  show- 
ing by  the  least  sign  that  he  was  conscious  of  his  pres- 
ence, read  the  letter  slowly.  By  the  time  he  had  finished 
—  and  it  seemed  to  take  him  a  long  while  —  the  com- 
missioners made  their  appearance. 

Puritans  of  the  Puritans  were  these  gentlemen,  grave 
and  elderly,  dressed  in  black  coats  and  doublets  of  the 

296 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

strictest,  plainest  cut,  and  white  falling-  collars  of  snowy 
unstarched  linen.  Their  faces  were  clean-shaven,  their 
hair  closely  cropped.  They  sat  motionless  and  wooden 
as  carved  images  round  Sir  Francis  Bacon;  and  Ralph, 
standing  in  their  midst,  his  armour  soiled  and  stained 
with  blood  and  dirt,  his  long  hair  lying  disordered  and 
lank  with  perspiration  on  his  shoulders,  his  left  hand 
grasping  his  belt,  his  right  resting  upon  his  sword  as  if 
in  the  last  resort  he  would  use  it  to  strengthen  his 
arguments,  seemed  an  altogether  different  species  of 
being. 

The  business  of  the  conference  was  opened  by  the 
Chairman,  who,  after  introducing  Ralph,  read  Crom- 
well's letter  aloud.  It  was  a  short  pithy  account  of  the 
engagements  around  Gainsborough.  The  last  para- 
graph and  the  postscript  the  Chairman  read  very  slowly 
and  emphatically,  and  Ralph,  watching  the  faces  of  the 
commissioners,  felt  a  sinking  of  the  heart  as  he  saw 
them  change  from  quiet  attention  and  approval  to 
uneasiness  and  dissent.     The  words  were  these:  — 

"  Thus  you  have  the  true  relation  as  short  as  I  could.  What 
you  are  to  do  upon  it  is  next  to  be  considered.  If  I  could  speak 
words  to  pierce  your  hearts  with  the  sense  of  our  and 
your  condition  I  would!  If  you  will  raise  2000  foot  at  present 
to  encounter  this  army  of  Newcastle's,  to  raise  the  siege  "  (of 
Gainsborough),"  and  to  enable  us  to  fight  him,  we  doubt  not, 
by  the  grace  of  God,  but  that  we  shall  be  able  to  relieve  the 
town,  and  beat  the  enemy  on  the  other  side  of  Trent;  whereas, 
if  somewhat  be  not  done  in  this,  you  will  see  Newcastle's  army 
march  up  into  your  bowels,  being  now,  as  it  is,  on  this  side 
Trent.  I  know  it  will  be  difficult  to  raise  this  many  in  so  short 
a  time,  but  let  me  assure  you  it's  necessary,  and  therefore  to 
be  done.  At  least,  do  what  you  may,  with  all  possible  expedi- 
tion! I  would  I  had  the  happiness  to  speak  with  one  of  you. 
Truly  I  cannot  come  over  but  must  attend  my  charge;  the 
enemy  is  vigilant.     The  Lord  direct  you  what  to  do. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  am  your  faithful  servant, 

"  Oliver  Cromwell. 

"P.  S. —  Give  this  gentleman  credence;  he  is  worthy  to  be 
trusted;  he  knows  the  urgency  of  our  affairs  better  than  myself. 

297 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

If  he  give  intelligence,  in  point  of  time,  of  haste  to  be  made, 
believe  him;  he  will  advise  for  your  good." 

A  silence  followed  the  reading  of  the  letter.  The 
Chairman  coughed  deprecatingly. 

"This,  gentlemen,  be  what  the  colonel  saith.  God 
hath  granted  him  some  notable  successes,  and  it  would 
seem  strange  that  after  these  the  resources  of  this  poor 
Association  should  be  taxed  again.  Yet  these  words, 
being  the  words  of  Colonel  Cromwell,  need  no  verifying. 
What  answer  will  it  be  your  pleasure  to  return,  or  are 
there  questions  you  would  wish  to  ask  this  gallant  officer 
commended  to  us  by  the  colonel?" 

"Questions,  Sir  Francis!  What  questions?"  said  one 
of  the  commissioners  sharply.  The  speaker  was  a  small, 
thin  man,  with  an  aggressive  snub  nose  and  restless 
eyes.  "  Of  a  surety,  it  would  appear  to  me  that  enough 
hath  been  said  out  of  the  colonel's  own  mouth  or  writ 
by  his  pen  to  end  the  matter.  He  asks  what  is  impos- 
sible. And,  were  it  within  our  power,  I  should  decline 
to  advance  him  a  man  until  I  had  received  a  full  account 
in  detail  of  lives  lost,  the  present  strength  of  the  army, 
and  in  what  manner  he  would  propose  to  use  the  foot 
he  asketh  for;  yet,  as  we  have  not  these,  I  shall  not 
waste  my  breath." 

The  Chairman  sighed. 

"  There  be  truth  in  your  words,  Master  Barrow. 
None  can  deny  our  poverty,  but  the  colonel  hath  been 
truly  painstaking  and  forward  in  his  doings.  Would 
you  indeed  "  —  appealing  to  the  rest  — "  send  him 
nothing?  I  thought  that  if  four  companies,  mayhap  a 
regiment " 

"  And  I  say  none,"  quoth  the  little  man,  wrinkling  his 
snub  nose  obstinately;  "neither  man  nor  musket,  pike 
nor  pistol  would  I  send  to  this  soldier  till  he  present  him- 
self before  us  in  person  at  the  least." 

298 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

The  Chairman  looked  round  at  the  other  commis- 
sioners and  saw  indecision  written  on  the  faces  of  all. 

"  Captain  Dangerfield,"  he  said,  with  a  grave  bow  to 
Ralph,  "  if  thou  hast  aught  to  say,  we'll  be  pleased  to 
hear  thee." 

Ralph  bowed  and  stepped  forward.  The  contemptu- 
ous tone  of  little  Master  Barrow,  a  Cambridge  attorney, 
who  rarely  ventured  to  open  his  lips  in  Cromwell's 
presence,  irritated  him  extremely.  He  wondered 
whether  Hepworth's  presence  had  made  this  difference, 
for  he  felt  assured  that  nothing  but  the  bitterest  and 
most  rancorous  hostility  was  to  be  expected  from  him. 
The  position  was  desperate,  and  desperate  measures 
must  be  taken.  At  Sir  Francis  Bacon's  call  he  drew  his 
sword,  and  at  the  scrape  of  steel  on  scabbard  and  the 
sweep  of  Ralph's  arm  the  commissioners  started  vio- 
lently, and  Master  Barrow's  face  went  a  sickly  yellow. 

Ralph  held  the  weapon  out  for  their  inspection. 

"I  have  much  to  say,  sir,"  he  cried;  "too  much  for 
my  tongue  ever  to  express.  But  an  this  gentleman 
requireth  evidence  let  him  observe  this  blade.  'Tis  still 
wet  with  blood,  the  blood  of  Newcastle's  redcoats;  and 
blood  drieth  quickly  on  a  sword.  Thus  you  may  meas- 
ure in  your  minds  how  short  a  time  it  is  since  we  were 
disputing,  foot  by  foot,  inch  by  inch,  with  the  king's 
great  army  of  the  north.  Then  it  was  at  the  gates  of 
Gainsborough ;  in  a  week,  nay,  in  a  few  hours,  it  may  be 
at  Cambridge.  See  my  doublet  here,  and  there  upon 
my  hose  —  blood,  sirs,  again.  'Tis  the  enemies',  thank 
God,  but  how  soon  may  it  be  mine  own  or  thine?  Can 
two  regiments  of  horse  withstand  an  army  very  long? 
They  did  it  to-day  at  the  sword's  point,  as  you  have 
heard,  and  all  for  your  sakes,  and  )^our  wives'  and  chil- 
dren's sakes,  and  all  the  helpless  ones  that  will  now,  it 
seems,  soon  be  at  the  mercy  of  malignant  plunderers. 
For  we  are  but  men,  though  Cromwell  lead  us.  And 
we  can  do  no  more.     Bethink  you,  since  Thursday  — 

299 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  it  be  now  Monday  night  —  we  have  had  no  respite 
from  our  labours.  In  that  time,  your  colonel  —  whom 
this  honourable  gentleman,  in  his  absence,  dares  to 
speak  of  in  terms  that  are  scarce  civil  —  laid  siege  as 
he  hath  writ  you,  and  took  by  assault  Burleigh  House; 
marched  fifty-five  miles  to  Gainsborough  without  rest 
day  or  night,  defeated  there  a  superior'  force  of  very  gal- 
lant Cavaliers,  relieved  the  town,  and  attacked  and  held 
at  bay  the  finest  army  the  king  commands,  and  all  this 
with  no  more  than  a  thousand  men.  And  now,  through 
these  men  being  exhausted  and  only  horse-soldiers, 
while  Newcastle  hath  a  many  regiments  of  foot  as  well 
as  cavalry,  Cromwell  asketh  you  for  a  matter  of  two 
thousand  foot,  and  oiifereth  then  to  meet  the  enemy  and 
drive  them  home  again.  Think  you  he  cannot  keep  his 
word?  Did  he  ever  fail?  But  no" — Ralph  was  in  a 
passion  now,  recking  nothing  of  his  language  and  little 
for  his  manners,  while  the  commissioners  sat  and  eyed 
him  apprehensively  — "  no,  the  failure  hath  been  on  the 
other  side.  'Tis  you  who  would  grudge,  and  even  now 
question,  his  success.  You,  sitting  securely  in  your 
homes  like  dogs  in  kennel,  order  him,  to  whom  you  owe 
your  lives,  to  come  to  you  and  bow  the  knee  to  your 
Majesties!  It  is  an  absurdity,  and  to  me,  who  hath 
known  what  he  hath  done,  'tis  monstrous.  But  I  waste 
your  time.  If  you  have  naught  to  give  or  promise  me, 
then  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  but  this.  Our  blood 
hath  been  spilt  in  vain.  In  vain  Cromwell  hath  plucked 
the  beard  of  the  Marquis.  In  a  few  days  at  most  you 
will  find  the  Royalist  troopers  at  your  gates.  Perchance 
then  blows  will  have  more  influence  than  prayers.  Not 
a  general  throughout  England,  fighting  for  the  Parlia- 
ment, hath  been  victorious  but  Cromwell,  and  he  hath 
never  yet  been  beaten.  If  he  faileth  now,  and  the  malig- 
nants  clutch  your  throats,  upon  your  heads  be  it.  I  bid 
you  farewell." 

He  would  have  walked  out  in  his  heat  and  disgust, 
300 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  ridden,  weary  as  he  was,  straight  back  to  Hunting- 
don, But  the  Chairman  plucked  him  by  the  sleeve  and 
said  persuasively:  — 

"  Nay,  nay,  gallant  captain,  be  not  so  hasty.  Thy 
appeal  hath  moved  us,  me  at  least.  Gentlemen,  I  pray 
you,  let  not  this  officer  return  with  such  a  message  to  his 
colonel;  it  would  be  a  grievous  thing." 

He  looked  appealingly  round  again,  and  Ralph 
paused. 

"What  can  we  do?"  Master  Barrow  said  in  acrid 
tones.  "  The  officer  is  pleased  to  call  us  dogs.  Then 
I  reply  we  have  no  bones  to  spare  for  wolves.  We  are 
nigh  penniless,  and  could  but  appeal  in  any  case  to  Par- 
liament. That  will  take  time.  Let  the  worthy  colonel 
send  direct  to  London.  I  propose  that  this  message  be 
returned  to  him,  with  our  good  wishes  and  regrets." 

A  murmur  of  assent  came  from  the  others,  with  here 
and  there  an  ejaculation,  *'  What  men  we  have  had  bet- 
ter guard  the  town! "  "  Enough  hath  been  done  by  us; 
'tis  the  turn  of  Parliament." 

Ralph  muttered  an  oath,  not  so  low  but  that  it  was 
heard  and  remembered.  Then  he  turned  to  Sir  Francis, 
who  was  trying  to  warm  the  coldness  of  his  colleagues 
into  some  message  more  grateful  to  the  ear,  and,  inter- 
rupting the  good  man,  he  respectfully  proffered  his  hand. 

'"Tis  vain,  sir.  Besides,  what  matter  empty  phrases? 
If  I  bring  not  men,  or  tidings  of  their  coming,  to  my 
colonel,  think  you  he  will  value  words?  Nay,  I  must 
be  gone.  I  am  grateful  for  your  countenance;  indeed, 
I  will  not  forget  to  report  how  you  inclined  toward  us. 
To  these  gentlemen  " —  Ralph  bowed  low  with  sarcastic 
politeness  — "  on  my  faith  I  have  nothing  more  to  say." 

He  strode  to  the  door  slowly,  hoping  against  hope 
that  someone  would  take  the  Chairman's  part,  but  not 
a  word  was  spoken.  He  reached  and  opened  it,  when  a 
hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder,  and  turning,  he  found 
himself  face   to   face   with   Hepworth.     The    minister's 

301 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

eyes  were  aflame,  his  lips  trembling  with  indignation; 
and  with  a  thrill  of  excitement  and  joy  Ralph  felt  that 
he  had  misjudged  this  man,  and  that  in  the  fiery  old 
presbyter  he  had  found  a  friend  in  need. 

"  Stay,  sir,"  Hepworth  said  in  a  low,  rapid  tone.  "  I 
beg  you  will  delay  a  moment  even  now.  Let  me  have 
speech  with  them  first." 

Then,  as  Ralph  stood  where  he  was  against  the  door, 
the  minister  turned  to  the  startled  commissioners. 

"  Listen,  sirs,  unto  me.  I  would  fain  have  held  my 
peace.  Ill  doth  it  become  a  Christian  minister  to  ven- 
ture his  judgment  and  opinion  in  a  carnal  matter  such 
as  this.  But  I  must  speak  —  I  will.  Would  I  had  the 
tongue  and  the  power  of  the  prophet  Moses,  to  smite 
your  sloth  and  backwardness.  Oh,  ye  craven  hearts! 
Are  ye  not  ashamed?  Where  be  your  manhood  and 
your  patriotism?  Is  it  for  such  as  ye  our  soldiers  give 
their  lives?  Hearken  ere  it  be  too  late.  Hearken,  I 
say,  though  at  the  eleventh  hour.  This  young  man  hath 
spoken  the  truth.  He  is  a  worthy  representative  of  a 
brave  officer.  Most  of  ye  know  that  I  have  had  a  mortal 
feud  with  Cromwell.  Aye,  and  I  have  denounced  this 
youth  as  accursed  and  ungodly.  Sirs,  I  call  you  to  wit- 
ness that  I  withdraw  my  words  now  and  henceforth. 
He  hath  fought  and  suffered  as  a  Christian  soldier  in  a 
sacred  cause.  And  as  he  hath  fought,  so  have  his  com- 
rades, upholding  against  most  fearful  odds  the  standard 
of  the  godly.  And  now  in  this  crisis,  faint  and  battle- 
worn,  he  Cometh  to  us,  to  thee  and  me  and  all  those  who 
do  not  fight,  but  who  watch  and  pray  and  should  give 
freely  of  their  substance.  He  asketli  in  his  colonel's 
name  for  your  support.  Shall  it  be  withheld?  Answer 
me,  men  of  Cambridge,  so-called  commissioners  of  the 
public  weal  of  the  city;  dare  ye,  as  followers  of  Christ, 
withhold  it?  Prate  not  to  me  of  keeping  men  to  guard 
your  town.  That  is  but  arrant  cowardice.  Gird  up  your 
loins,  and  guard  your  town  yourselves.     If  ye  have  men, 

302 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

though  they  be  your  brothers  and  sons,  send  them  forth. 
If  ye  have  but  a  penny-piece  i'  the  world  give  it  to  arm 
and  equip  them.  Ye  talk  of  ParHament.  Hast  not  one 
grain  left  of  self-respect?  Art  so  ignorant  and  so  short- 
sighted that  ye  cannot  see  that  Parliament  will  only  help 
after  ye  have  done  your  part?  Sir  Francis  Bacon,  speak 
from  thy  heart  unto  these  commissioners,  or  I  will  shake 
the  dust  of  Cambridge  from  my  feet,  and  before  the  bar 
of  Parliament  bear  witness  against  thee  and  every  one 
here  present  as  traitors  to  their  country,  their  soldiers, 
and  their  cause." 

He  paused  and  glared  round  for  a  reply.  Then  Sir 
Francis  rose  wath  flushed  face  and  a  dignity  that  well 
became  him. 

"  Reverend  friend,  I  thank  thee  from  my  heart.  Thy 
reproof  hath  been  bitter,  but  'tis  timely  and  rings  true. 
Friends,  we  have  been  backward,  I,  perchance,  the  most 
of  all.  I  must  pay  the  forfeit.  I  be  not  rich,  but  I  do 
herewith  promise  the  sum  of  one  hundred  pounds  within 
two  days  toward  the  equipment  of  a  regiment  of  foot  for 
the  use  of  Colonel  Cromwell.  Who  will  second  this 
with  a  like  amount?" 

Two  of  those  present  did  so,  and  then  the  Chairman, 
thanking  them,  went  on: 

"  That  maketh  three  hundred  pounds.  Now,  there  be 
men  at  our  disposal.  I  propose  that  500  be  sent  forth 
to-morrow  under  Captain  Dangerfield's  command,  more 
to  follow  as  there  be  opportunity.  Hath  this  your 
approval?  If  not,  let  those  who  would  oppose  it  bear 
in  mind  that  I  resign  my  chairmanship  this  night  and 
accompany  my  reverend  friend  to  bear  witness  in  the 
House." 

He  waited  for  an  answer,  but  none  came.  The  com- 
missioners were  conquered,  the  good  fight  was  won.  In 
the  relief  and  excitement  of  the  moment  by  a  mutual 
impulse  Hepworth  and  Ralph  grasped  hands. 


Z03 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"We  owe  it  all  to  you,"  Ralph  whispered. 

"Nay,  friend,"  the  minister  replied,  "to  thyself  — 
thyself,  and  thy  worthy  colonel,  for  the  deeds  thou  both 
hast  done." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

RALPH  slept  that  night  the  sleep  of  the  weary. 
When  he  awoke  at  last  the  sun  was  pouring  into 
his  chamber,  and  he  found  it  was  nearly  noon.  Sir 
Francis  Bacon  was  out,  but  in  the  room  where  the  con- 
ference had  been  held  he  found  Isaac  Hepworth  busily 
writing. 

The  minister  greeted  Ralph  cordially. 

"Art  well  rested?  See,  here  is  breakfast  ready  to  thy 
hand;  eat  while  I  finish  this  letter.  I  have  then  some- 
thing of  import  upon  which  I  desire  your  counsel  and 
opinion." 

Ralph  did  as  he  was  bidden  wonderingly.  He  was 
more  astonished,  if  it  were  possible,  at  these  kindly 
words,  than  at  Hepworth's  championship  the  night 
before.  What  could  have  happened  to  take  away  the 
violent  prejudice  and  dislike  which  the  man  had  nour- 
ished against  him  so  long?  The  matter  was  not  to 
remain  long  in  doubt.  Something  in  Ralph's  face 
expressed  his  thoughts,  and  no  sooner  had  Hepv/orth 
finished  his  letter  than  he  abruptly  struck  the  nail  upon 
the  head. 

"  Thou'rt  surprised,  young  sir,  that,  after  all  I've  done 
and  said  against  thee,  I  should  now  seek  thy  friendship. 
Of  a  surety  had  any  person  by  way  of  prophecy  declared 
a  few  months  since  that  I  should  do  so,  I  would  have 
scofifed  at  him.  But  the  ways  of  God  and  His  manifold 
providences  are  beyond  the  ken  of  the  wisest,  and  so  I, 
who  have  denounced  thee  and  thy  colonel,  and  exalted 
other  men,  even  such  as  this  Master  Barrow,  who  would 
have  given  thee  stones  instead  of  bread,  now  find  that 

20  305 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

my  thoughts  were  vain  and  foohsh,  my  speech  the  babble 
of  the  ignorant.  That  I  do  thee  justice  at  last,  Ralph 
Dangerfield,  thou  hast  to  thank  the  times  and  thine  high 
courage  and  thine  earnestness." 

He  paused  as  if  to  give  Ralph  an  opportunity  to  speak, 
but  receiving  no  answer,  went  on  again,  striding  up  and 
down  the  chamber. 

"Truly,  I  believe,  these  days  of  stress  and  mortal 
danger  to  our  cause  are  but  a  mercy  and  judgment 
vouchsafed  by  Almighty  God  to  purge  from  us  our  pride 
and  bitterness  of  heart.  It  be  in  such  times  that  a  man 
knoweth  his  brethren  and  discerneth  them  that  have 
been  but  wolves  in  disguise,  or  at  least  poor,  white- 
livered  knaves,  withoiit  courage  or  virtue.  Not  that  I 
disguise  from  myself  or  would  have  thee  doubt  the 
shame  and  iniquity  of  thy  most  damnable  heresy.  Nor 
do  I  justify  thy  colonel's  harsh  and  arbitrary  treatment 
of  that  brave  and  godly  soldier  Geofifrey  Capell.  But 
these  things  are  naught  beside  the  welfare  of  our  coun- 
try, and  the  duty  that  I  feel  lieth  in  my  path  to  do.  I 
would  even  take  my  place  beside  you,  even  to  wielding 
the  carnal  weapon  in  the  day  of  battle,  otherwise  offering 
my  poor  services  as  chaplain  to  the  regiment.  Stay;  I 
know  what  thou  wouldst  say,"  as  Ralph  raised  his  head 
quickly  to  speak.  "  The  regiment  is  full  of  sectaries  and 
heretics,  presumptuous  men  who  would  expound  the 
Holy  Scriptures  out  of  their  own  mouths.  And  they, 
you  would  tell  me,  need  no  chaplain.  Nay,  I  know  this ; 
but  if  I  came  it  should  not  be  to  argue  or  dispute,  except 
with  the  malignant  at  the  sword's  point,  but  to  speak 
comfortable  words  to  the  wounded  and  the  dying,  and, 
if  I  preached,  to  utter  words  of  encouragement  and  love. 
Truly,  good  captain,  I  am  most  earnest  in  this  thing.  I 
am  weary  of  the  talkers  in  London  and  the  Parliament, 
who  prate,  but  never  act.  I  have  not  long  to  live;  my 
body  is  feeble  for  my  age,  wherefore  I  must  live  visefully 
and  suffer  in  the  foremost  ranks.     Tell  me,  dost  think 

306 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Cromwell  would  take  me?  Wilt  thou  give  me  thy  sup- 
port with  him?  " 

He  spoke  earnestly,  pleadingly,  this  elderly  man,  weak 
of  arm  and  body,  but  so  strong  of  heart,  and  Ralph  was 
deeply  touched. 

"  Why,  sir,  you  will  be  more  than  welcome,"  he 
exclaimed ;  "  I  will  answer  for  the  colonel.  Yet  I  fear 
how  your  strength  can  endure  our  life.  'Tis  rough  and 
hard." 

"Tush!"  Hep  worth  interposed  with  his  old  impa- 
tience of  tone.  "  Fear  not  that  I  shall  faint  by  the  way. 
The  Lord  hath  given  me  some  will  and  spirit;  I  shall  not 
fail  ye  there.  Then  it  is  settled.  Now  let  us  find  Sir 
Francis  Bacon.  He  should  have  returned  by  this.  I 
trust  it  will  be  to  report  that  a  goodly  regiment  shall 
accompany  us  to  cheer  thy  colonel's  heart;  this  he  prom- 
ised me  last  night." 

They  found  that  the  knight  had  been  as  good  as  his 
word.  Four  hundred  men  were  to  march  for  Hunting- 
don that  afternoon,  and  as  many  more  as  they  could 
recruit  six  days  hence.  Hearty  was  the  welcome  they 
received  from  those  in  camp,  and  Flepworth  had  nothing 
to  complain  of  in  Cromwell's  greeting. 

"  You  have  done  well  to  bring  him,"  Cromwell  said 
afterwards  to  Ralph.  "  Fie  is  greatly  changed,  and  I 
doubt  not  will  much  encourage  the  men  by  his  exhorta- 
tions; but  we  must  contrive  to  keep  him  out  of  danger." 

The  cause  of  the  people  was  at  a  low  ebb  this  summer. 
Well  might  even  Hep  worth  feel  that  all  private  disputes 
must  sink  before  the  common  danger.  In  the  south  and 
west  the  king  was  everywhere  victorious,  Gloucester 
alone  holding  out  for  the  Parliament.  In  the  north  the 
Marquis  of  Newcastle,  having  shut  Fairfax  up  in  Hull, 
made  a  determined  movement  upon  Lincolnshire,  took 
Gainsborough,  stormed  and  captured  Lincoln,  and  low- 
ered on  the  horizon  of  the  eastern  counties  like  a  thim- 
der-cloud.     The  condition  of  affairs  became  more  and 

307 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

more  critical.  In  spite  of  promises  from  Cambridge 
and  elsewhere,  Cromwell  could  get  neither  food  nor 
clothing  in  sufficient  quantities  for  his  soldiers;  while  the 
few  men  sent  to  him  were  the  sorriest,  raggedest  of 
recruits.  The  only  chance  of  success  lay  in  a  stronger 
administration  of  the  association  which  held  the  power 
and  the  purse-strings,  and  in  a  thorough  overhauling, 
and  severe  drilling  of  all  new  men.  With  this  end  in 
view,  Cromwell  gave  up  for  the  time  the  attempt  to 
regain  Lincolnshire,  accepted  the  governorship  of  the  Isle 
of  Ely,  and  devoted  himself  to  reorganising  the  machin- 
ery for  raising  and  maintaining  an  army,  and  to  sup- 
porting from  his  place  in  Parliament  measures  for  stren- 
uously continuing  the  war.  His  regiment  he  left  under 
command  of  Major  Whalley,  and  to  Ralph  he  gave  com- 
mand of  all  recruits,  sending  him  to  Boston  with  his 
own  troop,  and  with  instructions  to  take  all  the  men  who 
were  sent  to  him,  teach  them  the  use  of  arms,  and  fit 
them  at  the  earliest  possible  moment  to  take  the  field. 
The  means  by  which  he  was  to  do  it  were  left  to  his 
discretion.  He  was  responsible  to  Cromwell  for  his 
acts,  and  to  Cromwell  alone. 

Such  a  position  should  have  been  after  Ralph's  own 
heart.  He  called  no  one  master  but  his  absent  chief; 
his  skill  and  faculty  for  organising  men  were  brought 
into  fullest  play;  and  as  helpers  he  had  his  loved  and 
trusted  soldiers,  the  men  of  "  Cromwell's  Own,"  on 
whose  devotion  and  fidelity  he  could  absolutely  rely. 
Yet  Ralph  was  not  elated  by  his  responsibilities,  nor 
even  content.  This  was  not  because  of  the  difficulties 
he  had  to  face,  though  many  a  man  of  tougher  fibre  and 
greater  experience  might  well  have  despaired  of  the 
rough,  half-starved,  discontented  rabble,  out  of  which  it 
was  his  business  to  create  soldiers  for  the  Common- 
wealth. Nor  did  he  complain  of  the  meagre  food,  and 
the  dreariness  of  being  far  away  from  friends  and  with- 
out companions  of  his  own  rank.     The  source  of  his 

308 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

discontent  la}^  deeper.  He  was  separated  utterly  and 
hopelessly  from  Rachel,  and  he  more  than  suspected  that 
the  work  allotted  to  him  was  part  of  a  deliberate  plan. 
How  or  when  this  feeling  first  came  to  him,  Ralph  could 
not  have  told.  He  had  hoped  against  hope  after  his 
appointment  was  made  that  before  he  was  thus  banished 
he  would  have  a  glimpse  of  Rachel  at  Ely,  and  get  an 
inkling  of  the  state  of  her  mind;  and  whether,  as  he 
could  not  help  hoping,  these  months  of  separation  had 
not  led  her  to  regard  their  religious  differences  with  a 
more  lenient  eye.  Ralph  was  confident  that  she  loved 
him.  Some  girls  might  say  as  much  as  she  had  done, 
and  mean  very  little  —  but  not  Rachel.  She  was  too 
reserved  by  nature,  too  refined,  too  sensitive.  She 
would  cloak  her  feelings  until  the  last  moment.  That 
she  had  drawn  the  veil  aside,  even  for  an  instant,  was 
a  pregnant  sign  of  what  lay  deep  —  deep  in  her  true 
heart.  Oh,  she  loved  him.  Poor  Oliver,  poor  old  lad! 
He  would  sigh  in  vain.  It  was  only  the  question 
of  creed  which  kept  them  asunder.  And  some  day,  if 
there  were  a  God  above  them,  a  way  to  reconcile  their 
dififerences  would  be  found. 

Thus  thought  Ralph  in  his  cheerful  moods;  but  he 
was  not  always  cheerful.  And  as  time  went  on,  and 
September  passed,  and  the  fens  became  drearier  and 
duller,  and  his  men,  though  smarter  in  their  drill  and 
appearance,  were  discontented  to  the  verge  of  mutiny 
at  his  strict  discipline,  these  thoughts  came  very  seldom, 
like  glimpses  of  light  in  a  sky  gathering  for  a  storm, 
until  at  last  they  disappeared  altogether.  Another  idea, 
a  very  troublesome  one,  began  to  trouble  him.  If  Crom- 
well had  some  suspicion  that  the  "  Socinian "  was 
something  more  than  Rachel's  friend,  and  for  that  reason 
had  banished  him  from  her  presence,  was  he  likely  to 
stop  there?  Cromwell  was  one  who  never  stayed  or 
rested  until  all  that  he  had  at  heart  was  carried  out 
beyond  all  possibility  of  miscarriage.     As  long  as  Rachel 

309 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

was  free  lie  —  Ralph  —  was  dangerous.  But  once  she 
were  betrothed  to  someone  else,  Oliver,  for  instance,  he 
would  be  but  as  a  viper  without  fangs.  At  present,  it 
was  true,  Oliver  was  beleaguered  in  Hull  with  Lord  Fair- 
fax; but  might  they  not  find  a  way  to  spirit  him  out? 
Did  Cromwell  ever  fail  to  find  a  way?  And  once  at 
Rachel's  side,  how  Oliver  would  pray  and  press  his  suit. 
Why,  he  had  nearly  won  her  before.  Now,  with  both 
guardians  at  his  back,  he  could  not  fail  to  win.  "  Crom- 
well, if  determined,  will  stay  at  naught,"  Ralph  said  to 
himself.  "  He  loves  her  so  dear  that  did  he  believe  it  to 
be  for  her  welfare  he  would  kill  me.  Nay,  if  I  do  not 
take  some  action,  try  one  more  appeal,  I  shall  have  lost 
her,  and  she  her  happiness.  For  Rachel  is  one  who,  lov- 
ing once,  loves  always;  and  losing  her  love,  never  loves 
again.  By  God,  it  shall  not  be,  though  I've  to  beard 
them  all  and  leave  this  regiment  to  grill!" 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  the  thought  began 
to  burn  in  his  brain,  and  until  long  past  midnight  he 
tramped  up  and  down  his  room,  making  plans  and  reject- 
ing them,  only  to  begin  afresh,  at  last  throwing  him- 
self upon  his  bed  tired  out.  But  when  he  slept  the 
gruesome  fear  crept  into  his  dreams  and  took  form  and 
shape.  He  was  in  St.  Mary's  Church  at  Ely,  the  place 
was  full  of  people,  and  up  the  aisle  came  Cromwell,  lead- 
ing Rachel  dressed  as  a  bride,  while  at  the  altar  stood 
Hepworth,  Bible  in  hand,  and  Oliver  in  gay  attire.  The 
ceremony  was  performed,  and  though  he  would  have 
given  his  soul  to  interfere,  he  could  not  move  nor  utter 
a  sound.  But  at  last,  when  the  minister  reached  the 
words  "Those  whom  God  hath  joined  let  no  man  put 
asunder,"  of  a  sudden  he  seemed  to  find  his  voice,  and 
leapt  up  before  them  all  crying,  "  Not  God  —  not  God, 
but  the  devil,"  and  woke  to  find  the  dawn  breaking.  It 
was  time  to  begin  another  weary  day. 

After  breakfast  Ralph  laughed  at  this  dream,  and 
threw  to  the  winds  the  notion  of  Cromwell  trying  to 

310 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

coerce  Rachel's  inclinations  —  Cromwell,  with  his  ten- 
derness and  high  sense  of  honour.  Yet  the  idea  that 
something  of  the  kind  might  happen,  nay,  must  happen 
ultimately,  would  not  leave  him,  and  a  visit  to  Ely,  an 
interview  with  Rachel  alone,  presently  became  his  set- 
tled determination. 

The  difficulties  in  the  way  were  very  great.  Though 
his  recruits,  whom  he  had  now  handled  for  two  months, 
were  vastly  improved,  it  would  not  be  safe  to  leave  them 
even  for  twenty-four  hours  in  other  hands.  It  would  be 
direct,  inexcusable  desertion  of  his  post.  Yet,  to  ask 
Cromwell's  permission  by  a  false  pretence,  that  seemed 
worse  still.  No,  he  would  go,  leaving  old  Reuben,  who 
was  acting  as  his  lieutenant,  to  take  command.  He 
would  see  Rachel,  ascertain  his  fate,  and  then  tell  Crom- 
well. Let  them  do  as  they  pleased  with  him.  Either  he 
would  be  too  happy  or  too  desperate  to  care.  He  had 
served  Cromwell  and  the  Parliament  faithfully  without 
reward;  they  must  now  let  him  serve  himself.  The  hot 
and  rebellious  blood  of  the  Dangerfields  was  at  fever 
heat.  It  must  have  its  way,  though  the  skies  fell,  and 
the  stars  went  out! 

So  Reuben  was  summoned  to  his  captain's  quarters 
one  dark  evening  in  October,  and  told  that  he  must  take 
command,  as  a  matter  of  great  urgency  required  Ralph's 
presence  in  Ely.  Then  a  letter  was  written  to  Rachel, 
just  to  say  that  she  must  receive  a  visitor  at  nine  o'clock 
of  the  day  in  the  large  sitting-room  alone.  Ralph  knew 
from  experience  that  this  room  was  empty  and  unused 
at  that  hour.  This  letter  was  to  be  delivered  by  a  mes- 
senger early  in  the  morning,  Ralph  himself  riding  all 
night  and  going  to  an  inn  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town 
until  the  appointed  time.  What  was  to  happen  after  the 
interview  would  depend  upon  circumstances. 

The  time  passed  very  slowly  after  he  had  made  his 
preparations.  As  he  swallowed  a  hasty  supper  he  heard 
the  tramp  of  his  horse  outside.     His  servant  had  brought 

311 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

it  round  before  the  time.  Ralph  emptied  a  glass  of 
cognac,  drew  his  pistols,  and  examined  their  primings, 
buckled  his  word  belt,  and  strode  out.  The  moon  had 
risen,  but  only  shone  faintly  through  a  thick  autumn 
mist.  Ralph  took  the  reins  from  the  trooper,  and  the 
horse,  his  favourite  charger,  smuggled  his  nose  into  his 
hand,  seeking  the  caress  he  never  failed  to  get  before 
Ralph  mounted.  Then  he  started  with  a  nervous  snort 
as  the  figure  of  a  man  loomed  through  the  mist. 

"  Good-even,  captain,"  said  a  voice  at  Ralph's  elbow. 
"  Whither  away  so  late?  " 

It  was  Cromwell.  He  had  left  his  horse  with  a  trooper, 
and  had  come  up  unperceived  across  the  sandy  waste. 
Ralph's  heart  flew  to  his  throat.  For  an  instant  he 
thought  of  riding  away  without  reply;  but  the  blood 
rushed  back,  his  nerves  regained  their  tone,  and  he  said 
coolly: — 

"You.  colonel?  I  was  bound  for  Ely.  Now,  per- 
chance, I'll  be  spared  the  journey.  Jonas,  take  Vis- 
count to  stable;  I  do  not  ride  to-night." 

He  went  into  the  house  without  another  word  — 
Cromwell  following  —  relit  the  candles,  closed  the  door, 
and  faced  his  colonel  with  clenched  teeth  and  steady 
eyes. 

"  You're  surprised  to  see  me  thus,  sir.  Well,  you 
shall  know  all,  and  at  once.  But  wait,"  his  voice  chang- 
ing, for  he  saw  that  Cromwell  was  tired.  "  Eat  and  drink 
first;  here  are  victuals.  Pray,  sit  ye.  I  will  get  some 
ale." 

Cromwell  made  an  impatient  movement  of  dissent. 

"Pish,  man!  your  news  first.  The  rest  will  wait. 
What  of  your  men?" 

"  I  have  a  good  account  to  give,"  Ralph  answered. 
"  They  be  nearly  ready  for  the  field,  so  that  you  provide 
good  officers.  They  know  their  business  fairly,  and, 
though  wild  rogues,  have  courage  and  a  great  wish  to 
fight.     Two  I  have  shot,  as  I  writ  you,  for  attempting  my 

.'?I2 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

life,  and  a  dozen  I  flogged  soundly.  The  rest,  seeing 
what  befell  their  leaders  and  coming  to  some  knowledge 
that  I.  would  do  my  best  for  their  welfare,  have  become 
quite  docile.  Naught  is  amiss  there.  It  was  of  myself 
I  wished  to  speak." 

"Art  thou  sick?" 

Cromwell  said  the  words  with  such  sharp  solicitude  of 
tone  that  Ralph  winced,  but  he  replied  without  change 
of  manner:  — 

"Nay,  not  the  least  in  body;  in  mind,  yes.  I  would  I 
might  take  a  brief  holiday  in  Ely." 

He  saw  Cromwell's  lips  tighten. 

"Thou  deservest  a  holiday,  truly,  friend.  But  why 
at  Ely?     London  would  be  a  better  change." 

"  Not  for  me,  sir.     My  friends  are  at  Ely." 

"And  they  would  welcome  thee,"  Cromwell  rejoined, 
then,  after  a  slight  pause,  "  If  this  were  all,  thou  mightest 
have  written.     Is  it  a  holiday  only  that  you  seek?  " 

His  lips  were  pressed  together  more  tightly  still  as  if 
from  some  painful  thought,  and  he  watched  Ralph 
keenly. 

"  I  wish  to  see  my  friends." 

"Friends,  or  one  friend?" 

"  One  friend,"  Ralph  answered  in  a  tone  which  he  had 
never  before  used  to  Cromwell  —  hard,  resolute,  defiant. 
"  I  would  go  to  Ely  to  get  speech  with  Rachel  Fullerton." 

The  murder  was  out,  and  Ralph  braced  himself  to 
meet  that  stern  inflexibility  he  had  seen  so  often  of  late 
in  Cromwell's  face.     But  it  did  not  come. 

"  And  what  wouldst  thou  say  to  Rachel?"  The  words 
came  sadly  and  slowly,  and  filled  Ralph's  mind  with  a 
presentiment  of  evil. 

"  You  know  what  I  would  say." 

"You  love  the  maiden?" 

"  As  my  life,  more  than  my  life." 

"But  —  thou  hast  no  hope?" 

"  Indeed,  yes.  She  loveth  me,  I  am  sure.  As  sure  of 
3^3 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

it,"  he  continued  doggedly,  as  Cromwell  gave  an 
emphatic  shake  of  his  head,  "  as  that  there  is  a  God  in 
heaven.     I  know  that  —  there  is  a  difficulty." 

But  Cromwell  would  hear  no  more. 

"  Hold  thy  peace,  man,"  he  cried.  "  Thou  art  a  fool 
demented  by  a  vain  imagination.  Nay,  look  not  at  me 
as  if  thy  sword  were  at  my  throat.  I'll  have  none  of 
such  bravado.  See  here:  Yesterday,  at  noon,  my  son 
Oliver  escaped  from  Hull  by  water,  and  came  among  us 
safe  and  sound.  Last  night  he  asked  my  leave  to  renew 
his  suit.  I  gave  it,  and  early  this  morning  they  were 
betrothed,  and  in  God's  good  time  Rachel  will  be  his 
wedded  wife.     How  now?" 

There  was  no  answer.  For  an  instant  Ralph  stood 
and  glared  at  his  colonel  like  some  wild  creature  brought 
to  bay.  Then  his  eyes  fell;  he  shivered,  and  mumbling 
an  excuse,  left  the  room.  In  a  minute  or  two  he  returned 
with  a  haggard  face,  but  his  voice  and  m.anner  much  as 
usual. 

"  The  night  has  grown  very  chill,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Will 
you  not  taste  my  cognac  at  least  —  unless,  after  all,  you 
will  eat  as  well?  " 

"Thou  are  right  there,  lad,"  was  the  answer  in  a 
brisk  tone.  "  I  am  hungry.  Let  us  set  to.  Thou  must 
eat  with  me." 

Ralph  sat  down  and  obeyed  mechanically,  and  they 
talked  business  for  an  hour.  Cromwell  had  come  to 
inspect  the  recruits,  as  a  determined  effort  was  to  be 
made  to  drive  the  Royalists  out  of  Lincolnshire  before 
winter  set  in.  Ralph  would  be  relieved  of  his  present 
command  and  serve  under  Cromwell  once  more  at  the 
head  of  his  troop.  At  the  first  pause  in  the  conversation 
Cromwell  proposed  that  they  should  retire  to  rest,  and 
Ralph,  eagerly  assenting,  was  alone  at  last.  He  threw 
open  his  casement,  for  his  brain  seemed  on  lire.  The 
night  was  dark  and  dreary;  the  faint  moon  had  sunk;  a 
bitter  wind  was  blowing  across  the  fens. 

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CROMWELL'S  OWN 

So  his  dream  had  come  true  in  a  way.  Yet  he  felt  no 
bitterness  either  toward  Cromwell  or  Oliver.  There  had 
been  no  coercion,  no  time  for  it.  Besides,  he  knew, 
being  now  in  his  senses,  that  such  a  thing  was  impossible. 
She  had  done  it  herself,  and  by  herself.  Oh  Rachel! 
Rachel!  Well,  it  was  her  right.  She  had  promised  him 
nothing  —  said  nothing.  He  closed  the  window,  threw 
himself  on  his  bed  and  after  a  time  slept.  Yet  even  in 
sleep  his  face  was  drawn  and  pitiful  —  the  face  of  one 
suffering  from  a  mortal  wound  dealt  by  the  hand  he 
loved. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

CROMWELL  found  the  recruits  satisfactory,  and  at 
once  gave  necessary  instructions  for  drafting  them 
into  the  army.  By  midday  he  started  home  again,  reach- 
ing Ely  late  in  the  evening.  He  was  met  at  the  door  by 
OHver  and  Betty  arm  in  arm. 

"  What  cheer,  son?  " 

"The  best,  sir.  I'  faith,  father,  I  be  so  lighthearted, 
that  were  the  war  over,  I  should  dance  a  jig  with  Betty 
here,  and  scandalise  my  dearest  friends.  Truly,  I  am  as 
happy  as  man  can  be.     How's  our  dear  captain?" 

"  Well,"  Cromwell  said.  "  That  is  as  well  as  one  who's 
done  the  work  of  three  these  many  months  can  be." 

"  I'd  a  hope  he  might  be  with  you,"  Oliver  said  wist- 
fully. "  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  met.  I  could  not 
love  a  brother  more  than  this  Ralph.  I'd  have  liked  for 
him  to  share  my  happiness.     Did  he  send  any  message?  " 

"  Best  wishes  " —  Cromwell  was  unbuckling  his  sword 
as  he  spoke,  and  it  took  him  longer  than  usual  — "  and 
a  long  life  to  both.     Where  be  Rachel,  then?  " 

"  With  grandmother,"  Oliver  said,  wrinkling  his  brow 
with  a  comical  look  of  jealousy.  "  Even  now,  though 
she  be  mine,  I  can  only  have  her  company  in  little  bits. 
This  comes  of  loving  one  who  is  precious  to  so  many. 
Come,  Betskin,  and  help  me  mend  my  clothes,  and  leave 
father  to  his  letters." 

A  little  later,  Cromwell,  whose  wont  it  was  on  coming 
home  to  retire  at  once  to  the  library  to  work,  heard  a  soft 
knock  at  his  door. 

"  Come  in,  daughter  Rachel;  come  in  and  let  me  look 
at  thee,"  he  cried.     He  held  her  at  arm's  length  when 

316 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

he  had  kissed  her.  "  So,  missy,  thou  art  going  to  be 
my  daughter  in  very  truth?" 

"  If  God  win,  dear  sir." 

"  I  should  thank  Him  from  my  heart;  I  do  thank  Him, 
Thou  hast  made  two  men  happy,  my  child." 

"  Then  I  am  happy,"  she  said  smiling. 

He  smiled  back  at  her,  but  Rachel  detected  a  latent 
watchfulness  in  his  eyes. 

"  Sit  here  on  the  arm  of  this  chair  of  mine,  it  be  strong 
enough  for  two;  then  lean  thy  head  against  my  shoulder. 
There,  now  my  spirit  is  at  rest,  as  it  seldom  is  these 
times.  Sure,  thou  wert  formed  by  thy  Creator,  child, 
to  bring  peace  into  men's  lives,  peace  and  goodwill. 
Now  tell  me,  daughter  " —  he  put  his  right  arm  round 
her,  and  with  the  other  hand  stroked  the  soft  hair  from 
the  white  forehead,  their  faces  close  together  — "  art  thou 
at  rest  in  thy  betrothal  with  this  lad  of  mine,  thy  mind 
at  peace  for  ever  and  for  ever?" 

She  smiled  again,  smiled  into  the  deep,  sad  eyes,  and 
thought  what  tenderness  lay  in  them,  and  how  ignorant 
and  foolish  were  those  who  said  this  man  was  hard. 
Yet,  with  a  characteristic  particularity,  she  noticed  that 
one  eye  was  larger  than  the  other,  and  that  the  wart 
which  lay  between  them  was  more  prominent  than  it 
used  to  be. 

"  Need  I  make  answer?  An  I  was  not  so  I  should  be 
wicked,  most  ungrateful  too.  It  is  not  many  women 
who  possess  so  faithful  a  lover  as  mine,  none  who  will 
have  such  a  father."  She  whispered  the  word  softly, 
and  then  kissed  the  offending  wart  as  though  she  would 
charm  it  away.  Cromwell  patted  her  cheek  with  one 
finger. 

"  Hov/  know  I  whether  thou  art  not  wicked  and 
ungrateful,  mistress?  Women,  the  best  of  them  even, 
are  so  full  of  wiles.  By  my  faith,  our  father  Adam  is  to 
be  more  excused,  I  think,  than  some  allow.  Yet  thou 
art  right  about  Oliver.     He  is  faithful,  and  will  be  unto 

317 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

death.  I  mind  me  thou  saidst  if  he  would  submit  to  a 
probation  from  thee  and  returned  as  full  of  love  as 
when  he  went  away  thou  wouldst  not  say  him  nay.  Was 
it  not  so?" 

He  paused,  and  still  behind  the  tender  smile  there  lay 
that  watchfulness.  Rachel's  only  answer  was  a  pressure 
of  the  hand.  Then  a  long  silence  followed,  till  Cromwell, 
turning  slightly  away,  said  with  a  sigh :  — 

"  Tis  well  that  some  are  happy  these  dark  days.  I  feel 
as  if  there  were  two  worlds:  the  one  a  heaven,  this  sweet 
home  of  mine ;  the  other  purgatory,  if  not  worse.  Which 
minds  me,  I  have  forgot  to  deliver  a  message  Ralph 
Dangeriield  bade  me  carry  to  thee." 

He  was  not  looking  at  her  now,  but  her  hand  was 
still  in  his,  and  he  felt  her  pulse  slacken  and  her  fingers 
twitch. 

"  What  said  he,  sir?" 

The  words  were  quietly  spoken,  no  tremor,  no  hard- 
ness, but  just  as  one  should  speak  about  a  friend. 

"  He  begged  that  you  would  receive  his  best  wishes, 
and  that  he  would  pray  to  God,  in  whom  you  both 
believed  —  he  seemed  particular  about  these  words, 
wherefore  I  repeat  them  —  that  your  choice  would  bring 
you  happiness.  'Twas  a  right  friendly  and  proper  greet- 
ing," Cromwell  went  on,  raising  his  voice  slightly. 
"Thou  hast  made  a  friendship  there,  my  daughter,  that 
will  last  your  life  and  his." 

He  turned  his  face  towards  hers;  and  now  no  smile  was 
in  his  eyes,  only  the  watchfulness.  But  he  gained  little 
by  his  scrutiny.  Rachel's  smile  had  vanished,  it  is  true, 
and  he  could  fancy  that  she  had  turned  paler,  but  her 
eyes  met  his  with  the  same  steadfastness,  and  she 
answered  in  her  usual  quiet  tone:  — 

"  I  do  believe  it.  He  is  a  noble  gentleman.  Even  my 
uncle  acknowledgeth  that  now." 

"  Hast  any  message  thou  wouldst  wish  me  to  take  back 
to  him?" 

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CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  My  thanks,  my  best  thanks,  and  " —  she  paused,  and 
he  thought  he  detected  a  shght  catch  of  the  breath,  but 
he  could  not  be  sure  — "  and  say  that  I  have  prayed  for 
him,  with  others,  daily,  since  he  went  away." 

Cromwell  nodded,  and  again  they  were  both  silent. 
A  minute  afterwards  Rachel  slid  from  her  perch. 

"  I  must  go  about  my  duties,  dear  sir.  Indeed,  I  have 
interrupted  you  too  long.  But  it  seemed  a  weary  while 
since  I  had  you  to  myself." 

Cromwell  rose  also,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  her  head. 
"  God  bless  thee,  child,  and  give  unto  thee  in  full 
measure  the  comfort  and  solace  thou  givest  unto  others. 
I  will  not  forget  thy  message  to  the  lad." 

"  And  yet,"  he  muttered  when  he  was  alone,  "  it  will  be 
small  comfort  to  him.  She  prayeth  for  him  daily.  That 
means  he  is  ever  in  her  thoughts.  Yet  it  is  Oliver  who 
has  won  her.  What  was  it  the  boy  said?  '  She  loves  me, 
but  there  be  a  difficulty.'  That  meant  his  religion. 
Tush!  why,  now  'tis  all  explained.  Some  fancy  there 
must  have  been.  Truly,  he's  a  gallant  youth,  and  when 
he  strove  to  take  advantage  —  the  dog,  I  never  smelt  it! 
— she  put  him  off,  and,  like  the  true  Christian  that  she  be, 
thrust  away  all  thought  of  him  for  the  sake  of  her 
religion.  Ah,  'tis  a  rare  maid,  with  a  wondrous  strength 
of  principle  and  soul.  Mother  was  wrong.  Obstinacy 
Rachel  hath  in  truth,  but  'tis  in  the  clinging  to  her  faith, 
not  passion.     And  now  all's  well." 

He  cleared  his  throat  and  sat  down  to  his  work,  and 
with  a  grunt  repeated  the  words  twice,  aloud.  But  when, 
later,  he  went  to  Madam  Cromwell's  room,  for  some  rea- 
son he  said  nothing  of  his  talk  with  Rachel,  nor  his  own 
communings  upon  it.  The  old  lady  was  not  well,  and 
the  news  from  the  Parliament  and  the  country  was  too 
grave  for  Cromwell  to  say  very  much.  In  the  midst  of  it 
she  exclaimed: — 

"  I  thank  you,  son.  God  has  the  cause  in  His  hands, 
and  He  v^^ill  shield  His  own,  and  make  ye  victorious  in 

3^9 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

His  own  good  time.  Truly,  my  mind  is  full  of  private 
matters.  So  they  are  betrothed?  What  think  you 
of  it?" 

The  question  came  sharply,  almost  bitterly.  There 
was  not  a  pretense  of  pleasure  in  the  speaker's  face. 

"  I  think  it  be  the  best  that  is  possible,"  Cromwell 
replied  in  a  firm,  but  very  gentle  tone.  "  There  could 
be  no  safeguard  greater  than  this  to  the  child  remaining 
here.  Now,  though  Hepworth  turn  and  rend  me,  which 
he  may  at  any  time,  he'll  never  so  much  as  talk  of  taking 
her  away.  Of  Oliver  I  need  not  speak,  and  our  lad  be 
greatly  altered  for  the  better.  The  war  hath  been  a  good 
school  of  manners.  Where  would  you  find  one  more 
manly,  or  more  honest,  or  more  loving?  " 

"Where!"  the  old  lady  exclaimed  petulantly.  "Nay, 
ask  me  not,  lest  I  make  confessions  that  will  sorely 
wound  thy  father's  pride.  I  complain  not  of  Oliver.  He 
hath  held  well  to  the  chase,  and  run  fairly  throughout. 
But  I  be  not  content  with  her.  That's  where  it  bites.  I 
care  not  to  conceal  it  now  from  thee.  There  was  a  time 
I  could  have  sworn  Rachel  saw  the  full  difference  in  those 
two  men,  even  as  I  should  have  done  at  her  age.  I 
watched  her  close  after  thy  departure  to  Cambridge. 
The  last  sign  of  the  child  in  her  departed  too  that  day. 
A  woman  she  was  in  very  truth,  and  a  woman  with  a  sore 
heart  and  grieving  spirit.  Yet  but  eight  months  later 
on,  we  see  — this!  I  am  disappointed,  though  she 
knoweth  it  not.  Oliver  thy  son,  is  dear  to  me;  and 
dearer  still  is  the  religion  which  Ralph  hath  thrown 
away;  but  now  that  it  is  all  over,  now  that  she  has  passed 
her  word  to  give  her  hand,  I  will  confess  my  heart  was 
set  upon  Ralph's  grandson,  and  not  mine,  winning  this 
fair  jewel.  Ralph  —  young  Ralph  —  was  thy  true  son;  a 
strong  man,  with  brains  as  well  as  courage,  commanding 
others;  able  to  uphold  and  follow  worthily  wheres'ever 
thou  didst  lead.  He's  but  a  captain,  but  I  know,  though 
thou  hast  kept  thy  tongue  so  close,  that  all  this  while  he 

320 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

has  been  doing  a  colonel's  work,  and  shortly,  if  God 
spares  his  life,  will  win  the  rank,  and  go  on  and  on  until 
he'll  have  a  place  and  name  of  which  we'll  all  be  proud. 
And  what  perplexeth  me  is  how  this  girl  of  ours  hath 
failed  to  see  this.  When  I  was  young,  naught  would 
have  blinded  me  to  the  love  that  was  in  his  every  look 
and  motion.  Had  I  seen  such  love  from  him,  not  the 
powers  of  all  the  world,  parents,  guardians,  ministers,  be 
they  who  they  might,  would  have  turned  my  face  aside. 
But  women  nowadays  have  not  the  strength  or  constancy 
of  purpose  we  were  taught.  Their  love  cometh  lightly, 
and  goeth  more  lightly  still.  God  forgive  the  child,  and 
see  to  it  that  she  be  not  punished  by  an  aching  heart  in 
later  days.  Good-night,  son;  I  would  be  alone.  I  must 
to  my  Scriptures,  and  learn  patience  and  submission  to 
God's  will.  But  it  is  hard.  She  be  our  ewe  lamb,  and 
he " 

"  Be  a  Socinian,"  Cromwell  said  sternly.  "  Surely, 
mother  thou  forgettest  what  the  word  implies,  what  thou 
thyself  hast  said." 

"  I  forget  naught,"  the  old  lady  said  tartly,  with  a  look 
that  showed  she  was  not  in  the  mood  to  be  reasoned  with 
even  by  her  son.     "A  good-night  to  ye." 

Thus  dismissed,  Cromwell  kissed  her  and  departed, 
but  before  he  closed  the  door  he  heard  her  mutter  aloud: 
— "  Socinian,  bah !  how  we  all  harped  upon  this.  Were 
we  right?  Mayhap.  Yet  a  lad  of  that  spirit,  and  his 
grandson;  of  a  truth  they'd  have  had  my  blessing." 

Cromwell  went  back  to  his  library,  expecting  to  find 
Rachel  there  to  write  for  him.  But  he  was  disappointed. 
Oliver,  who  had  come  in  to  try  and  tempt  his  father  from 
work,  in  order  to  talk  of  future  plans,  said  she  had  gone 
to  her  chamber  with  a  headache. 

This  was  true  enough.     It  was  one  of  those  blinding, 

crushing  headaches  when  the  sufferer  must  creep  away 

to  some  dark  corner,  and,  after  hours  of  pain,  hope  to 

lose  herself  in  sleep.     Rachel  lay  on  her  bed  waiting  for 

21  321 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  healing  slumber  that  was  so  terribly  long  in  coming. 
She  was  in  the  room  which  had  once  been  Ralph's,  and 
had  been  set  apart  for  her  use  as  soon  as  he  went  away. 
Alone,  yes,  she  was  very  much  alone  these  days,  wrapped 
round  with  a  reserve  within  reserve  which  even  Crom- 
well's piercing  eye  had  failed  to  penetrate,  and  which  no 
one  else  realised  at  all.  Loved  and  trusted  by  everyone, 
even  by  Bridget,  without  an  enemy  in  the  world,  she 
was  understood  by  none.  There  are  many  people  in 
such  a  position,  both  men  and  women,  but  few,  perhaps, 
who  have  as  many  friends  as  had  Rachel,  friends  anxious 
to  understand  her,  and  who  craved  as  earnestly  as  she 
did  to  be  understood.  It  is  from  such  cases  as  hers  that 
some  of  life's  saddest  tragedies  are  drawn. 

Under  favourable  circumstances,  once  emancipated 
from  her  uncle's  rigid  rule  and  lack  of  sympathy,  Rachel 
would  have  as  fair  a  chance  of  happiness  as  most  women. 
Ralph's  nature,  outspoken,  masterful,  strong,  yet  sym- 
pathetic and  sensitive  to  gentle  influence,  was  ideally 
fitted  to  match  with  her  sweetness  and  steadfastness,  her 
warm  afifections  and  well-balanced  mind.  But  then  cir- 
cumstances were  anything  but  favourable,  and  the  fur- 
ther matters  went  between  them  the  more  impassable 
became  the  barrier  which  the  difference  of  religion  raised 
against  their  love.  To  love  a  man  who  denied  the 
divinity  of  Christ  Rachel  believed  to  be  a  sin.  Marriage 
was  out  of  the  question.  This  was  her  standpoint  from 
the  moment  she  discovered  what  was  growing  in  her 
heart  —  and  Ralph's.  This,  had  it  been  in  her  power, 
she  would  have  said  to  Ralph  the  day  he  declared  his 
love.  Indeed,  afterwards,  thinking  over  the  incident  in 
the  light  of  her  own  intense  convictions,  she  persuaded 
herself  that  Ralph,  when  he  cooled  down,  would  feel 
this  as  strongly  as  herself;  that  absence  would  do  the 
rest,  and  their  lives  be  separated  for  evermore.  That 
her  own  heart  ached  sadly  enough;  that  every  scrap  of 
news  of  him  was  treasured  up  as  sacred;  that  a  casual 

322 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

word  against  him  from  Bridget  made  her  hot  with  anger, 
and  Betty's  quick  defence  drew  tears  of  gratitude, 
Rachel  thought  of  Httle  moment.  It  was  so  much  a 
matter  of  course,  and  besides  —  were  they  not  friends? 
Thus  the  months,  weary,  weary  months,  passed  by, 
and  he  never  came  even  on  the  shortest  visit.  Finally, 
when  the  news  was  brought  by  Cromwell  that  he  was 
in  Boston,  perhaps  for  the  whole  winter,  at  least  for  a 
long  time,  Rachel  finally  made  up  her  mind  that  her 
past  conviction  had  been  a  true  one,  and  she  finally 
dismissed  the  whole  matter.  Then  came  the  fateful  day 
when  Oliver  returned,  ragged  and  thin  almost  beyond 
recognition,  but  the  same  eager  lover  as  of  old.  Yet 
he  was  graver,  more  tender  —  a  man  now,  all  the  blus- 
tering boyishness  ground  out  of  him.  He  was  neither 
bumptious  nor  obtrusive,  but  told  her  in  simple,  fervent 
words  how  his  love  for  her  had  been  the  greatest  bless- 
ing of  his  life,  and  would  remain  with  him  till  death. 
Then  he  asked  her  if  she  could  not  give  him  any  hope. 
It  all  came  suddenly,  like  a  river  swollen  by  spring  rain 
dashing  itself  against  a  dam  that  has  been  worn  by  time. 
She  yielded,  and  though  when  he  took  her  in  his  arms 
she  shivered,  and  the  lips  that  met  his  were  cold  and 
white,  yet  afterwards,  touched  by  his  honest  gratitude, 
comforted  by  the  joyous  and  heartfelt  congratulations 
of  the  rest,  and  the  knowledge  that  nothing  could  now 
part  her  from  the  household  which  she  loved  so  well, 
Rachel  felt  she  had  done  right,  and  humbly  thanked 
God  for  having  guided  her  safely  to  this  goal  after  all 
that  had  gone  before.  So  Rachel  thought  and  felt  until 
this  evening,  until  Cromwell,  in  words  that  beat  upon 
her  brain  and  heart  like  red-hot  hammers  on  a  tender 
nerve,  gave  her  Ralph's  message.  Oh,  how  his  words 
had  hurt  her!  She  could  have  cried  out  with  the  pain. 
"  The  God  in  whom  we  both  believe  "  !  Back  into  her 
memory  came  that  white,  defiant  face,  full  of  misery 
and  love,  and  smote  her  like  a  crushing  blow.     It  was 

323 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

marvellous  that  she  had  not  betrayed  herself  to  Crom- 
well; that  afterwards  she  had  forced  herself  to  do  her 
usual  work  until  such  time  as  she  could  escape  and  hide 
her  face.  Yet  she  had  done  it,  and  no  one  knew,  not 
even  Cromwell,  what  that  message  meant  to  her.  But 
now,  alone,  she  could  give  way,  and  let  the  horror  run 
its  course,  and  do  its  will  upon  her.  How  Ralph  would 
despise  her  —  Ralph,  who,  though  she  had  loved  him, 
had  always  seemed  from  his  heresy  a  little  at  her  feet. 
Now  it  was  she  Vv^ho  had  proved  wanting.  Why  —  why 
had  she  ever  doubted  that  he  had  won  her  heart  wholly, 
utterly?  She  loved  him  as  only  once  in  all  her  life  she 
could  love.  She  knew  and  acknowledged  it  now 
when  it  was  too  late.  They  could  never  have  been 
united  it  was  true  —  even  in  this  supreme  moment  of 
her  distress  that  resolution  failed  her  not  —  but  to  wed 
another;  to  go  into  the  temple  of  God  and  vow  to  "  love, 
honour,  and  obey  "  one  who  was  not  her  dearest,  it  was 
enough  to  bring  a  curse  upon  the  house.  It  was  treason 
to  Ralph,  to  Oliver  himself,  and  yet  what  was  to  be 
done?  She  was  betrothed  to  Oliver;  she  had  bound 
herself  by  a  pledge  almost  as  sacred  as  the  marriage  tie 
to  love  this  man,  this  good  and  honourable  man,  who 
loved  her  with  a  true  and  honest  love.  "  Oh,  if  she 
could  but  die!"  she  thought.  "Such  a  creature  is  not 
fit  to  cumber  the  earth  —  a  woman  who,  in  the  crisis  of 
her  life,  hath  told  a  lie." 

So  Rachel  said  to  herself,  and  believed  every  word, 
and  far  into  the  night  lay  sobbing  in  her  shame  and 
misery,  until  exhausted  nature  could  endure  no  more, 
and  she  slept  soundly,  dreamlessly,  like  a  tired  child. 

When  she  awoke  next  day,  she  was  so  weak  and  ill, 
that  after  dragging  herself  downstairs  to  do  her  work 
as  usual,  the  family  pounced  upon  her  and  drove  her 
back  to  bed,  and  nursed  her  with  a  care  and  solicitude 
that  made  her  sufferings  still  more  bitter.  But  the  rest 
did  her  good;  her  mind  soon  regained  its  balance,  and 

324 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

by  the  following  day  she  was  herself  again.  No  one 
except  Madam  Cromwell  saw  much  change  in  her.  For 
Rachel,  like  many  another  woman  in  the  same  position, 
when  she  came  to  think  the  matter  out,  felt  that  what 
was  done  could  not  be  undone,  and  that  if  she  could  not 
give  Oliver  the  love  she  wished,  she  could  give  him  that 
which  would  content  him  well  enough.  Ralph  —  well, 
he  could  not  love  her  now.  He  could  only  feel  a  loath- 
ing, or  at  best  a  pitying  contempt.  In  any  case,  that 
must  be  set  aside,  ruled  out  of  her  mind,  kept  utterly 
at  a  distance  out  of  sight.  To  make  Oliver  happy,  care 
for  all  the  rest,  think  nothing  of  herself  —  that  was  her 
duty  now,  and  she  must  do  it  unto  the  end. 

She  did  it,  and  only  Madam  Cromwell's  eyes  spied 
anything  amiss;  but  the  old  lady  said  nothing,  though 
she  pondered  much,  and  people  said  she  aged  a  great 
deal  that  autumn.  She  was  so  silent,  and  so  much  less 
brisk  in  temper  than  she  used  to  be. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

IT  was  a  cold,  blustering  afternoon  in  the  fens.  A 
north-west  wind  swept  across  a  dull  grey  sky,  driving 
heavy  clouds  before  it  like  a  flock  of  sheep.  It  did  not 
rain,  but  there  was  every  sign  that  as  soon  as  the  wind 
fell  there  would  be  a  deluge;  and  it  behoved  all  travel- 
lers to  make  haste  to  shelter.  One  horseman,  however, 
riding  towards  Ely,  urged  his  horse  past  cottage,  and 
inn,  and  hamlet,  indifferent  to  all  warnings,  though  he 
knew  the  weather  in  these  regions  well.  It  was  Ralph, 
his  face  white  and  drawn  with  weariness  and  pain,  his 
left  arm  bound  closely  to  his  side,  and  a  bandage  dis- 
coloured with  blood  about  his  head.  When  the  first 
cold  drops  of  rain  struck  upon  his  forehead,  he  gave  a 
low,  bitter  laugh,  and  patted  his  horse's  neck. 

"It  cometh  then.  Viscount;  let  it  come!  Five  miles 
still  to  go,  lad;  then  a  warm  stable  for  thee,  and  a  well- 
earned  rest.  And  for  me  a  fever  like  enough.  I  neither 
know  nor  care.     Hasten  on,  good  beast." 

The  rain  came  down,  a  cold,  heavy,  drenching  shower, 
and  by  the  time  Ralph's  horse's  hoofs  struck  the  familiar 
stones  of  Ely  streets  he  was  wet  through. 

With  extreme  difficulty  —  for  every  joint  was  stiff, 
and  he  was  weak  with  former  loss  of  blood  —  he  dis- 
mounted and  knocked  at  the  door. 

It  was  opened  by  Betty,  who  gave  a  little  cry  of  dis- 
may at  sight  of  his  face. 

"Why,  Ralph,  you  be  deadly  sick.  Oh,  what  hath 
happened?    Where  is  father?  " 

"  He  is  well,"  Ralph  answered,  trying  to  speak  cheer- 
fully and  distinctly,  though  his  teeth  chattered  with  coldj, 

326 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  he  shivered  all  over.  "There  hath  been  a  fight,  a 
glorious  one,  at  Winceby.     We  beat  them  off  the  field." 

"Oh,  I  am  glad,"  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands;  "but 
won't  Oliver  be  in  a  fury  at  being  a-bed  and  helpless! 
Truly  his  temper  will  be  worse  than  ever  now." 

"  Oliver  a-bed!  "  Ralph  cried  stupidly,  drawing  a  chair 
before  the  hall  fire,  and  falling  heavily  into  it.  "  Be  he 
wounded?" 

"  Didst  not  hear  from  father?  Why,  it  was  just  a  week 
ago,  three  days  after  his  betrothal.  He  rode  a  horse 
that  had  thrown  two  men  —  a  wicked  beast,  but  such  a 
beauty.  It  was  offered  him  at  a  low  price,  and  now  has 
cost  him  very  dear,  for  it  fell  upon  him  and  broke  his 
leg,  and  he  be  a-bed  for  many  weeks.  Rachel  is  a-nurs- 
ing  him.  But,  Ralph,  I  will  not  speak  another  word  to 
ye;  you're  ill  yourself.  Your  arm  be  broke,  or  worse. 
Nay,  I  am  off,  and  will  send  Rachel  to  ye.  You  must 
be  doctored  too." 

And  away  she  ran  upstairs,  and  Ralph  sat  and  waited. 
He  heard  a  step,  a  light,  quick  step,  that  but  a  week 
ago  would  have  brought  a  hot  colour  to  his  face.  Now 
pale,  and  stern,  he  rose  painfully  and  bowed.  He  had 
pictured  this  meeting  to  himself  a  score  of  times  on  his 
long  ride.  He  would  be  courteous,  distant,  and  she,  no 
doubt,  dignified  and  cold.  And  now  —  well,  he  bowed 
as  he  had  planned,  and  mechanically  said  the  words  that 
he  had  learnt  by  heart. 

"Your  servant,  madam.  I  have  a  message  from  the 
colonel." 

But  there  he  stopped.  For  when  Rachel  saw  his 
stooping  figure,  the  ghastly  paleness  of  his  face,  and  the 
bloody  handkerchief,  she  interrupted  him,  and  her  voice, 
though  quiet,  was  full  of  nervous  tension. 

"What  hath  happened  to  you?  Nay,  take  your  seat 
again.  You  have  ridden  far  on  little  food,  and  have  lost 
much  blood.  I  know  the  signs  full  well.  Then  you  are 
wet " —  touching    his    doublet  — "  soaked    through    and 

327 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

through.  Stay  still;  nay,  I  command  you,"  as  Ralph 
would  have  protested.  "  Stir  not  a  finger  until  I  have 
brought  some  cognac.  Betty!  Oh,  you're  here. 
Quick,  to  the  kitchen!  See  that  a  fire  be  lit  in  the 
guest-chamber,  and  the  bed  there  heated  with  all  the 
speed  that  may  be.  Sir,  I  will  bring  the  cordial 
instantly." 

She  sped  away  without  another  word,  and  while 
Ralph,  who  was  now  feeling  exceedingly  faint  and  giddy, 
fell  back  into  his  chair  again  and  closed  his  eyes,  the 
household  set  to  work  on  his  behalf.  In  a  moment,  as  it 
seemed,  Rachel  was  back  again  with  the  brandy.  It 
was  hot  and  very  comforting,  and  he  felt  better  at  once, 
when  he  thanked  her  his  tone  was  no  longer  formal. 
But  her  own  face,  grave,  watchful,  solicitous  as  a  nurse's 
or  doctor's  should  be,  did  not  relax  or  change. 

"  You  will  now  to  bed,  sir,  as  soon  as  the  chamber  is 
warmed.  Pray  do  not  heat  yourself  by  conversation. 
Oliver  would  see  you,  but  I  told  him  to  wait  until 
to-morrow." 

Ralph,  however,  would  not  wait.  He  was  feverish 
and  could  not  sit  still,  and  demanded  permission  to  go 
to  his  friend  at  once. 

"  Faith,  comrade  Ralph,"  Oliver  exclaimed  in  the  old 
cheery  tones  when  he  caught  sight  of  him,  "  this  be 
indeed  good  fortune,  though  truly  it  is  unbecoming  to 
express  contentment  at  the  misfortune  of  another 
because  one  has  a  knock  from  fate  oneself.  News, 
news  —  give  me  the  news  first.  Betty  only  says  a 
'  battle,'  not  knowing  if  it  be  of  three  thousand  men  or 
thirty.     Tell  me." 

"A  very  pretty  fight,"  Ralph  said,  falling  into  the 
other's  humour,  and  grasping  the  warm  hand  with  a 
feeling  of  relief  and  pleasure  that  surprised  himself. 
"  Three  thousand  of  us  under  Manchester,  thy  father  in 
command  of  the  horse,  disputed  the  advance  of  a  part 
of  Newcastle's  army  at  Winceby,  and,  after  standing  to 

328 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

our  weapons  some  three  hours,  we  forced  them  back, 
and  our  lads  following  briskly,  killed  nigh  a  third  and 
drove  the  rest  some  miles." 

"Victory  then,  indeed!  The  Lord  be  praised.  And 
thou,  I'll  warrant,  wast  at  the  head  of  thy  famous  troop 
and  turned  the  day." 

"  Nay,"  Ralph  said  with  a  peculiar  smile,  "  I  saw  little 
of  it  and  did  less.  I  was  unhorsed  at  the  beginning; 
that's  to  say,  my  horse  was  shot,  and  I  was  cut  down. 
I  lay  unconscious  until  they  found  me,  and  then,  being 
of  no  use,  your  father  sent  me  here  a  while." 

"What  was  thy  wound?     I'll  warrant  it  severe." 

"  Not  much,"  was  the  indifferent  rejoinder,  "  a  shoul- 
der out  of  place  and  a  broken  crown.  I'll  soon  be  well. 
Now  tell  me  of  thyself." 

"  That  will  I  not,"  said  Oliver,  raising  himself  upon 
his  elbow  and  now  observing  his  friend  closely. 
"  Thou'rt  fainting,  man.  Betty,  fetch  Rachel.  There,  I 
knew  it;  he  has  swooned." 

While  Ralph  was  speaking  his  face  had  gone  ashen 
pale,  and  slipping  from  his  chair,  he  fell  prone  upon  the 
floor. 

In  a  little  while  they  had  carried  him  to  a  well-warmed 
room  and  put  him  to  bed.  But,  in  spite  of  all  their 
efforts,  he  did  not  return  to  consciousness,  and  the  doc- 
tor who  had  set  Oliver's  leg,  and  was  reputed  a  skilful 
chirurgeon,  was  hurriedly  sent  for. 

This  doctor  was  an  imposing  personage.  He  was 
highly  esteemed  by  the  well-affected  in  the  neighbour- 
hood for  his  piety,  and  reported  to  be  extremely  learned; 
a  handsome  man,  who  knew  it,  and  with  a  face  which, 
though  more  remarkable  for  solemnity  than  intelligence, 
was  honest,  with  wide-awake  eyes. 

When  he  had  examined  Ralph  he  shook  his  head. 

"  He  hath,  first,  a  dislocation  of  the  shoulder,"  he  said 
to  Rachel,  who  in  Mrs.  Cromwell's  absence  from  home, 
and  with  Madam  Cromwell  in  bed  with  rheumatism,  was 

329 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  acting-  mistress  of  the  house,  "  a  bad  one,  but  that 
is  the  least  part.  The  blow  and  fall  that  caused  it  hath 
been  so  severe  that  I  judge  it  hath  shaken  his  system, 
nerves,  and,  in  a  measure,  his  mind.  These,  with  a 
sword  stroke  he  received  across  the  hinder  portion  of 
the  skull  and  the  exertions  of  a  long  ride  following, 
causeth  his  case,  young  madam,  to  be  serious  enough  to 
be  fatal.  We  should  reduce  the  fever  that  is  now  upon 
him,  yet  the  loss  of  blood  may  remove  the  means  of 
recuperation.  I  would  I  had  further  advice.  I  possess 
some  poor  skill  of  chirurgery,  but  this  needs  a  physician 
and  one  acquainted  with  the  humours  and  distempers  of 
the  brain." 

He  felt  his  patient's  pulse,  while  Rachel's  face  became 
almost  as  pallid  as  the  unconscious  one  upon  the  bed. 

"  I  see  but  one  thing  to  be  done,"  she  replied,  "  we 
will  send  to  Cambridge  for  any  gentleman  you  may 
advise." 

The  doctor  bridled  at  once. 

"  Indeed,  madam !  I  should  then  withdraw.  I  hold 
myself  as  competent  as  any  in  this  county.  In  London 
alone,  where  reside  the  greatest  men  in  the  profession  — 
but  London  is  too  far.  He'll  be  dead,  an  the  fever  run 
its  course,  before  the  fastest  messenger  could  bring  a 
doctor  back.  I  will  take  a  little  blood  and  watch  the 
symptoms.  Nature  hath  secret  reservoirs  of  strength 
we  know  not  of.  Pray  let  me  have  a  basin  and  some 
bandages." 

Rachel  retired  to  get  them;  but  first  she  went  to 
Oliver.     He  was  much  shocked. 

"  Nay,  but  it  looks  hopeless  indeed.  Copestake  is  as 
good  a  leech  as  any.  What  a  pity  Ralph  came  here! 
All  the  best  chirurgeons  are  in  the  field." 

"What  would  you  do?"  Rachel  said  in  a  strangely 
quiet  tone,  and  with  an  expression  Oliver  privately 
thought  rather  hard. 


330 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"Why,  what  can  I  do?  But  for  the  doctor's  words 
I'd  have  sent  to  Cambridge " 

"Whom  will  you  send?     There  must  be  no  delay." 

Oliver  looked  up  surprised;  but  there  was  no  change 
in  her  face.     It  was  white  and  rigid. 

"You  think  so;  then  let's  do  it.  Send  Ned  Worthy- 
face;  he's  our  best  rider  and  a  trusty  lad." 

"  And  if  there  be  none  in  Cambridge  he  is  to  ride  to 
London." 

Again  Oliver  stared.  It  was  not  like  Rachel  to  put 
words  into  other  people's  mouths. 

"Why,  yes,  sweet,  yes;  do  as  you  will.  You've  the 
best  judgment  of  us  all,  I  do  believe.  Yet  to  whom  are 
we  to  send?  I  know  no  doctor  in  Cambridge  or 
London." 

"  Write  to  the  most  considerable  man  your  father 
knows  and  ask  him  to  find  one  out.  Give  the  groom 
orders  even  to  go  into  the  colleges.  There  be  many 
learned  doctors  of  medicine  there;  I  was  told  so  once." 

"  A  shrewd  notion,"  Oliver  exclaimed.  "  Bring  me 
pen  and  paper,  and  then  to  the  kitchen!  By  my  faith, 
dearest,  we  must  save  this  man  —  thy  friend  and  mine. 
It  shall  be!" 

In  the  shortest  space  of  time  the  letter  was  written, 
and  the  messenger  on  his  way.  Rachel,  after  rendering 
Doctor  Copestake  such  assistance  as  he  needed,  returned 
to  Oliver.  She  found  him  very  restless  and  cross.  He 
had  just  snapped  Betty  up  so  sharply  that  the  girl  was 
in  tears. 

"Tut!  never  mind  then,  baggage,"  he  said  with  a 
growl  as  Rachel  entered ;  "  I  am  but  a  saker  rammed 
with  powder,  but  unshotted.  I  make  a  noise  like  a 
petard,  but  I  hurt  no  one.  Go  now  and  talk  to  granny, 
I  tell  thee  again  Ralph's  but  asleep.  He'll  waken  pres- 
ently, and  tell  thee  battle  stories  without  end.  Rachel, 
comfort  the  chit;  then  shut  the  door  and  let  us  talk." 

But  Betty  would  not  be  comforted. 

33^ 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"You  are  but  fooling  me,"  she  sobbed,  "and  that  is 
wicked  and  so  silly.  I  saw  him  swoon,  and  I  know  as 
well  as  you  that  he  lieth  there  unconscious,  if  indeed  he 
be  not  dead." 

"Dead!  what  stuff!"  Oliver  exclaimed.  "Get  thee 
away.  He  is  as  quick  as  me,  and  like  to  have  care, 
tendance,  and  prayers,  mayhap,  that  would  cure  a  man 
at  the  last  gasp  of  breath.    Dead!  not  he." 

"  I  hear  you  say  it,"  Betty  said  viciously,  slowly 
retreating;  "I  believe  what  I  choose.  But  this  I  know, 
I  am  glad,  yes,  glad,  that  Ralph  hath  been  wounded  — 
if  only  he  recover  —  for  now  you  will  find  Rachel  hath 
ofttimes  something  better  to  employ  her  time  than  you, 
though  she  be  your  bond-maiden."  And  then  away  the 
wrathful  kitten  bounced,  slamming  the  door. 

"How  is  he?"  Oliver  said  hastily. 

"Just  the  same.  I  trust  the  physician  will  come 
quickly.  I  cannot  think  it  wise  to  bleed  him  so.  His 
swoon  seems  to  me  from  weakness  and  exhaustion, 
rather  than  from  blood  upon  the  brain.  But  of  course 
I  know  not.     One  can  only  wait." 

Oliver  bit  his  finger-nails. 

"Thou'lt  grieve  sore,  Rachel,  if  aught  happen 
untoward  to  thy  friend." 

He  spoke  hoarsely,  and  Rachel  started,  and  for  an 
instant  her  cheek  flushed.  Then  she  looked  him  in  the 
face,  and  his  eyes  fell  before  hers. 

"  I  shall  grieve,  so  must  all  who  love  thy  father.  For 
he  will  lose  the  best  ofificer  he  hath.  He  told  me  that 
had  he  not  seen  the  men  at  Boston  when  they  enlisted, 
he'd  never  have  believed  such  sound  soldiers  as  he  took 
into  the  field  the  other  day  had  only  two  months  since 
been  rude  churls,  and  common  wayfarers.  He  would 
feel  the  captain's  death  most  woefully." 

"  And  thou,  I  say,"  Oliver  retorted  with  the  petulance 
of  sickness  —  for  he  was  far  from  well  —  "  an  my  father 
miss  the  officer,  wilt  thou  not  miss  the  man?" 

332 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  In  a  manner,  yes,"  Rachel  answered  without  the 
quiver  of  an  eyelid,  though  her  heart  throbbed  until  she 
thought  she  must  run  from  the  room.  "  But,  you  will 
remember,  it  is  long  since  we  have  met.  And  now  " — 
she  paused  a  moment  to  be  quite  sure  her  voice  was 
under  control  — "  I  can  have  little  thought  for  friends. 
My  life  hath  changed  since  —  the  day  that  you  came 
home." 

He  caught  her  hand  and  kissed  it  passionately. 

"  Darling,  forgive  me  for  a  rough  and  peevish  boor! 
I  was  but  playing  with  thee.  Nay,  look  not  away. 
Tears!  Why,  Rachel,  sweet,  have  I  really  hurt  thee? 
Then  I  shall  not  sleep  to-night  for  very  shame  and  anger 
with  myself." 

He  spoke  in  real  distress,  and  she  had  to  let  him  take 
her  other  hand,  and  then  with  a  kiss  bid  him  talk  of 
brighter  things.  And  all  this  time  her  heart  was  aching 
—  aching  for  the  man  who  lay  upstairs. 

The  hours  passed.  The  household  one  by  one  went 
ofif  to  bed,  until  only  Rachel  and  Oliver,  who  would  not 
sleep,  and  Doctor  Copestake,  remained  awake.  But  the 
lamp  burnt  in  the  hall,  the  fire  glowed  on  the  hearth, 
and  they  waited,  listening  for  every  sound  outside.  At 
last,  soon  after  midnight,  a  knock,  gentle,  but  thrice 
repeated,  came  at  the  front  door,  and  Rachel  flew  down 
the  stairs. 

"This  Colonel  Cromwell's?"  said  a  strange  voice, 
clear  and  rather  acrid,  with  a  refined  city  accent.  "  I 
am  a  physician,  madam,"  the  voice  continued,  and  a 
man  wrapped  up  to  the  eyes  stepped  over  the  threshold 
and  made  her  a  low  bow.  "  You  will  guess  my  errand. 
I  understand  Captain  Dangerfield  lieth  seriously  ill." 

"  You  are  welcome  in  God's  name,"  she  answered 
tremulously.     "Ned  Worthyface,  is  that  you?" 

"  Aye,  Mistress  Rachel,  all  that  the  rain  hath  left." 

"Wher6  are  the  horses?" 

"  In  the  stable,  please  you.     This  worshipful  gentle- 

333 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

man  would  see  his  beast  stalled  'fore  he's  come  in." 
There  was  a  suggestion  of  grumble  in  his  tone. 

"  Indeed,  he  was  right,"  Rachel  replied.  "  Go  you 
into  the  kitchen  and  find  your  supper  and  dry  clothes. 
Sir,"  turning  to  the  doctor,  ''  I  cannot  express  how 
grateful  all  in  this  house  will  be  for  your  arrival.  .You 
must  be  drenched  to  the  very  skin." 

"  Nay,  nay,  was  the  answer,  accompanied  with  a 
strange  chuckle,  as  if  he  found  some  secret  amusement 
in  her  solicitude;  "I  am  well  equipped  in  a  defence  of 
my  own  contrivance.     See,  I'm  dry  as  a  bone." 

While  he  spoke  he  wriggled  himself  free  of  an 
immense  cloak,  pulling  it  finally  over  his  head  and  dis- 
closing the  features  of  a  very  short  man,  with  a  head  of 
shaggy  white  hair  and  a  long  grey  beard.  His  dress 
of  plainest  black  cloth  was  that  of  a  professional  chirur- 
geon  of  the  Puritan  persuasion. 

"  And  now,  madam,  waste  no  time,  an't  please  you, 
on  courtesies  or  aught  else.  My  patient  —  take  me  to 
him.     He  be  alive  still?" 

"  Thank  God,  sir,  yes,  but  I  fear  in  sad  case." 

"Who  saith  so?"  was  the  sharp  rejoinder. 

"  Our  chirurgeon,  who  is  attending  him  this  moment." 

The  doctor  gave  a  slight  but  perceptible  start. 

"His  name.  Mistress?" 

"  Copestake." 

"  Graduated  he  at  Cambridge,  taking  his  degree  in 
London?" 

"  I  believe  so,"  she  said  wondering  why  the  man  had 
started,  and  beginning  to  feel  decidedly  uncomfortable. 
"  Do  you,  then,  know  him?  " 

"  Without  doubt.  Go  we  up  these  stairs?  I  address 
Mistress  Rachel  Fullerton?" 

"  That  is  my  name." 

"  Good.  I  will  tell  thee  mine  in  good  time,  but  not 
now." 

He  chuckled  again,  and  so  uncannily  that  Rachel  was 

334 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

thankful  to  see  Doctor  Copestake's  tall  figure  at  the 
stair-head.  The  little  doctor  saw  him  too,  and  bustling 
up  to  him,  said  in  a  gruff,  deeper  tone  that  he  had  used 
yet:  — 

"  Your  servant,  sir.  I  have  come  by  request  of  this 
honourable  family  to  examine  a  wounded  man.  I  am 
a  physician.  You,  I  understand,  are  Doctor  Nathaniel 
Copestake.  Let  us  proceed  to  business.  Where  is  the 
patient?  where  is  he,  sir?" 

He  extended  his  hand  to  his  majestic  colleague, 
touched  his  fingers,  dropped  them,  and  strode  into  the 
room  beyond,  which  was  lighted  up,  and  where  Ralph 
lay  still  unconscious. 

Rachel  and  Doctor  Copestake  exchanged  glances. 

"Do  you  know  him?"  she  whispered. 

"  His  appearance  be  quite  strange  to  me,  but  I  seem 
to  have  heard  the  voice.     We  must  demand  his  name." 

He  strode  in  and  motioned  to  Rachel  to  shut  the 
door  after  them. 

"  Now,  sir  " —  he  coughed  with  a  grave  solemnity  that 
was  somewhat  spoilt  by  the  anxious  inquiry  in  his  eyes 
— "  before  we  touch  upon  the  matter  of  your  visit,  I 
must  beg  you  to  favour  us " 

He  paused,  and  then  his  eyes  dilated,  his  jaw  dropped. 

"God  Almighty!"  he  exclaimed;  "whom  have  we 
here?" 

The  stranger  answered  with  a  chuckle  that  was  grim- 
mer and  more  unearthly  than  the  last,  and,  turning  from 
the  bed,  calmly  pulled  off  his  beard  with  one  hand  and 
the  white  hair  with  the  other,  and  stood  before  them  a 
wizened,  bald-headed,  shrivelled  old  man. 

"Aye,  Copestake,  thou  art  right.  Madam,"  turning 
to  Rachel,  "  I  told  ye  that  I'd  tell  my  name.  I  only 
waited  till  I  saw  my  patient's  condition.  It  is  desperate, 
and  though  ye  hold  my  life  now  between  your  finger- 
tips, I  hold  his  'tween  mine.  My  name  is  Taunton  — 
Sidney  Taunton.  I  am  chirurgeon-general  to  His 
Majesty  the  King." 

335 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

DOCTOR  TAUNTON  made  his  announcement  with 
a  relish  which  not  even  his  anxiety  about  Ralph 
nor  the  imminent  danger  in  which  he  stood  himself  could 
spoil.  The  horror  on  Copestake's  solemn  face  tickled  his 
fancy  hugely;  and  he  faced  round,  expecting  to  hear 
Rachel  scream.  But  she  disappointed  him.  After  giv- 
ing a  slight  start  she  remarked  quietly,  rather,  he 
thought,  in  a  tone  of  relief:  — 

"  Whosoever  you  be,  sir,  if  you  can  aid  us,  you  are 

truly  welcome,  and  "  but  she  got  no  further,  for 

Doctor  Copestake  drew  his  sword. 

"  Madam,  you  know  not  to  whom  you  speak.  But  I 
do,  thank  the  lord.  This  man,  once  a  great  physician, 
be  not  only  dyed  with  deepest  malignancy,  but  is  a 
Papish  and  a  notorious  spy.  Through  a  miracle,  surely, 
a  direct  act  of  the  Almighty,  he  hath  now  thrust  his 
head  between  the  lion's  jaws.  Stir  not,  you  sir,  or  I  run 
you  through.  Call  the  servants,  madam;  we  will  bind 
him  fast." 

He  flourished  his  sword  at  Taunton  as  if  he  would 
have  pinked  him  then  and  there.  But  Rachel  stepped 
between. 

"  Hold,  sir,"  she  said  in  a  tone  so  peremptory  and 
commanding  that  Copestake,  who  had  known  her  for 
two  years,  stared  in  amazement.  "  You  forget  yourself. 
This  is  Colonel  Cromwell's  house,  not  yours.  If  this 
gentleman  can  prove  that  he  hath  come  on  this  errand 
of  mercy,  he  shall  be  protected,  though  I  send  to  the 
town  for  a  company  of  musketeers.  Put  away  your 
weapon  on  the  instant.     There  shall  be  no  violence  here." 

33^ 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

A  woman  thoro'iighly  roused  is  a  difficult  person  for 
a  man  to  deal  with,  and  if  she  is  usually  a  quiet  and 
gentle  person  the  effect  of  her  anger  is  doubled.  So 
Doctor  Copestake  found,  and  though  he  muttered  words 
which  were  neither  complimentary  nor  polite,  he 
sheathed  his  sword  and  retired  glowering  to  the  door, 

Rachel  addressed  Taunton. 

"Are  you  acquainted  with  Captain  Dangerfield?  I  — 
I  have  heard  him  mention  such  a  name." 

"  I  am  his  guardian,  young  mistress,  or  was  until  he 
took  his  life  away  from  me.  His  father,  when  a-dying, 
commended  him  to  my  care;  thus  I  came,  hearing  of  his 
sickness,  and,  if  need  be,  I  will  give  my  life  to  save  him. 
That  is  the  truth." 

There  was  a  dignity  in  the  way  these  words  were 
spoken  that  won  Rachel's  confidence  at  once. 

"You  shall  be  protected,  sir;  I  say  it  in  the  name  of 
Colonel  Cromwell  and  his  son,  who  is  in  this  house  to 
give  me  full  authority.  Sir,"  to  Copestake,  "  I  pray  you 
mark  my  words,  and  I  would  know  what  you  intend 
to  do." 

"His  intentions!"  exclaimed  Taunton,  resuming  his 
abrupt  caustic  manner  and  speech.  "  Bah,  madam, 
trouble  not  thyself  there  a  whit;  I  know  him  of  old,  and 
he  knoweth  me.  Before  this  curse  of  Puritanism  seized 
upon  the  land  he  was  not  too  proud  to  be  my  pupil  in 
the  gentle  art  of  chirurgery.  He'll  help  me  now.  Come 
hither,  Nat,"  bustling  to  the  bedside  and  holding  a  can- 
dle so  that  the  light  fell  upon  Ralph's  face,  "  hither,  I 
say,  and  listen  while  I  tell  thee  what's  amiss.     Politics 

be  d d!     Our  fair  mistress  will  excuse  me  the  word; 

I  be  half  a  soldier.  We  are  doctors,  you  and  I;  before 
we  fall  to  blows  we  have  to  save  this  man.  Here  now, 
and  help  me.  'Tis  lucky  I  have  your  steady  hand  and 
head ;  I  mind  me  you  were  to  be  relied  upon  of  old." 

The  moment  was  critical,  and  Rachel  felt  that  Ralph's 
life  hung  upon  a  hair,  otherwise,  she  would  have  been 

"  337 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

amused  at  the  sudden  change  which  the  little  stranger's 
brief,  decided  words  had  upon  his  big  colleague.  Cope- 
stake's  truculence  vanished  in  an  instant,  and  obediently 
going  to  the  bed,  he  took  the  candle  from  the  doctor 
and  with  a  respectful,  not  to  say  reverential,  air,  watched 
him  as  he  gazed  keenly  at  the  white  face  on  the  pillow 
and  felt  the  sick  man's  pulse. 

"Pish!  what's  this,  man?  Blood-letting  here!  Hadst 
not  more  sense?  There,  excuse  not  thyself  to  me;  I 
know  thy  theory.  A  rush  of  blood  to  the  brain,  and 
fever;  wherefore  draw  blood.  Aye,  aye,  always  the  same 
tale.  Mistress,"  jerking  his  head  at  Rachel,  but  other- 
wise keeping  perfectly  still  and  timing  the  pulse-beat  with 
his  watch,  "  cognac,  at  thy  best  speed,  and  a  spoon;  delay 
not. 

"  'Tis  nerve  exhaustion,"  Taunton  continued  to  Cope- 
stake;  "the  lad's  worn  to  a  bone.  A  few  ounces  more, 
and  you  would  have  drained  him,  friend.  What,  the 
fever?  That  be  but  chill  and  excitement;  his  wound  is 
healing.  Nay,  we  must  nourish  and  strengthen  first. 
Here  be  our  young  mistress.  A  deft  maid  truly,"  he 
muttered  to  himself,  "  and  as  resolved  to  save  my  boy 
as  if  —  See  now,  the  spirit  already  taketh  effect.  Madam, 
hast  some  beef  in  the  house?  Cut  it  up,  then,  and  boil 
the  essence  from  it;  he  must  have  some  broth;  give  it  to 
him  every  half-hour  in  little  sips;  alternate  with  spirits 
in  water.  I  will  prepare  a  drug  to  soothe  him,  lest  he 
be  excited,  and  that  bring  the  fever  to  a  head  before  he 
hath  stamina  to  stand  against  it.  Copestake,  thou  wilt 
find  the  materials;  I  have  none  by  me." 

Ralph  was  conscious  now,  very  feebly  conscious,  and 
inclined  to  murmur  and  babble  foolishly  to  himself;  but 
even  this  was  better  than  the  dead  motionless  coma,  and 
Rachel,  on  her  way  to  the  kitchen,  hastened  to  report 
progress  to  Oliver.  He  looked  very  much  taken  aback 
when  he  heard  Taunton's  name. 

"  It  is  a  by-word  for  black  Papistry,  and  even  worse. 

338 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

They  say  he  is  a  master  of  the  black  art,  and  can  raise 
the  devil,  if  indeed  he  be  not  Satan  himself  in  human 
form  aiding  the  queen  as  her  familiar.  What  will  be 
said  when  it  is  known  that  we  have  harboured  him? 
But  there,  there,"  he  added  hastily,  "  think  not  I  blame 
you.  An  he  saves  Ralph's  life  he  may  be  the  devil  for 
aught  I  care;  and  I  warrant  father  says  the  same." 

Rachel  did  not  go  to  bed  that  night.  She  brewed  the 
broth,  and  at  the  same  time  cooked  a  hot  supper  for  the 
doctors,  and  sat  by  Ralph  afterwards  while  they  enjoyed 
it.  He  was  sleeping  now,  but  uneasily,  and  once  she 
heard  him  call  her  tenderly  by  name.  This  made  her 
weep.  But  after  a  minute  she  had  dried  her  eyes  and 
was  frowning  at  herself,  and  the  doctors  saw  no  trace 
of  tears  when  they  returned.  Towards  morning  Cope- 
stake  took  his  leave.  He  pressed  Rachel's  hand  pater- 
nally, and  after  looking  round  to  see  that  there  were 
no  listeners  whispered:  — 

"  You  were  right,  dear  mistress,  and  may  depend  upon 
my  silence.  The  captain's  life  resteth  in  his  physician's 
hands,  and  I  think  be  safe.  There  be  no  one  in  this 
land,  nay,  in  Europe,  with  Doctor  Taunton's  skill  in 
medicine;  but  no  one  must  know  he  be  in  this  house. 
The  Parliament  would  give  a  thousand  pounds  to  take 
him.  Fare  you  well,  and  silence!"  He  put  his  finger 
solemnly  to  his  lips  and  bowed  himself  out.  Rachel 
returned  to  the  sick-room,  but  Doctor  Taunton  met  her 
in  the  passage. 

"He  is  fully  awake  now,"'  he  said,  "but  must  not  see 
a  face  or  speak  to  anyone.  The  brain  hath  been  sorely 
taxed  by  some  trouble  of  mind,  while  the  body  hath 
been  strained  and  received  a  severe  shock  from  the  fall 
which  put  his  shoulder  out  of  joint.  What  happened? 
Do  you  know?  " 

Rachel  was  willing  enough  to  tell  the  story  which 
Cromwell  had  described  tersely  in  a  letter  to  his  mother. 

"  Indeed,  sir,  he  saved  the  colonel's  life.     I  understand 

339 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

that  the  regiment  was  charging  full  upon  the  enemy  — 
I  crave  your  pardon,  the  Royalists  —  when  one  of  their 
dragoons  in  firing  struck  the  horse  of  Colonel  Crom- 
well, who  was  riding  in  the  van,  and  he  was  rolled 
upon  the  ground,  whereupon  Captain  Dangerfield  dis- 
mounted, intending  to  give  the  colonel  his  horse,  when 
another  shot  killed  that  poor  beast  also,  and  so  they 
were  both  afoot,  the  troop  gone  onwards.  Just  then  a 
troop  of  the  enemy,  making  a  circle  to  attack  our  army 
from  behind,  bore  down  upon  them,  and  the  captain 
placed  himself  in  front,  and  receiving  the  full  onslaught 
of  the  enemy,  was  thrown  backwards  and  sore  bruised 
and  hurt.  Both  must  have  been  killed  but  that  the  first 
troop,  having  seen  the  straits  of  their  ofhcers,  now  came 
back  at  the  charge  and  broke  the  Royalists  to  pieces. 
Captain  Dangerfield  recovering  partially,  returned  here 
last  evening;  the  colonel's  injuries  were  slight." 

Doctor  Taunton  thanked  her  abruptly;  went  back  into 
the  sick-room  and  shut  the  door. 

"Saved  his  life,  the  life  of  the  bloody  rebel  colonel!" 
he  muttered  to  himself.  "  By  rights  I  should  e'en  kill 
thee,  Ralph,  for  such  a  deed."  He  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders and  smiled.  "  The  humour  of  it  is,  though,  that 
mine  own  life  dependeth  upon  the  will  of  this  very 
Cromwell.  So  for  that  reason,  if  for  no  other,  I  must 
cure  my  boy." 

Taunton  did  not  leave  his  patient's  side  for  forty-eight 
hours.  Then  he  sent  for  Copestake  suddenly,  and 
before  night  it  was  known  that  Ralph  was  in  high  fever, 
and  lay  at  the  point  of  death. 

Bad  news  travels  fast,  but  the  news  that  one  wishes 
most  carefully  to  conceal  travels  faster  still.  Doctor 
Copestake  was  loyal  to  his  trust,  so  were  the  Cromwell 
household  servants.  Yet  within  a  few  days  of  Taun- 
ton's arrival  at  Ely  an  agent  from  Parliament,  duly 
armed  with  a  warrant  for  his  arrest,  was  following  him 
there.     Afterwards  it  turned  out  that  Ned  Worthyface, 

340 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

who  had  met  the  doctor  in  his  hunt  among  the  colleges 
for  a  physician,  Taunton  being  in  hiding  there,  had  a 
sweetheart  in  Cambridge  whose  mother  was  cursed  with 
a  gossiping  tongue.  Taunton's  notoriety  as  a  spy  and 
a  Papist  did  the  rest. 

Sir  Francis  Bacon  was  writing  in  his  library  when  a 
servant  announced  an  officer  from  the  Parliament,  and 
in  walked  a  burly,  hard-faced  man,  with  cold  blue  eyes 
—  Major  Geoffrey  Capell. 

Capell  had  aged  in  these  months.  His  hair  had 
grown  grey  at  the  edges,  and  there  were  deep  lines 
about  his  face  which  would  be  wrinkles  before  he  was 
forty.  Sir  Francis,  who  had  not  met  him  before,  thought 
that  a  more  forbidding  representative  of  the  godly  army 
would  be  difficult  to  find.  But  he  greeted  his  visitor 
with  great  politeness,  for  Capell  had  won  no  little 
renown  by  his  services  with  Sir  William  Waller  in  the 
west,  and  was  known  to  be  a  zealous  and  determined 
officer. 

"  Be  there  any  service  I  can  render  you?"  Sir  Francis 
said,  after  they  had  exchanged  greetings.  Capell's 
reply  was  to  hand  him  a  letter  from  the  Clerk  to  the 
Parliament. 

"A  score  of  troopers  will  suffice,"  he  said  carelessly, 
as  the  commissioner  read  it.  Sir  Francis  looked  aghast, 
and,  gentle  as  he  was,  his  spirit  rose. 

"A  score,  sir!  Nay,  then,  expect  you  the  household 
of  our  worthy  colonel  to  take  up  arms  in  defence  of  a 
malignant  spy?  You  are  surely  not  acquaint  with  him. 
Besides  it  hath  been  reported  to  me  that  this  doctor, 
Papist  though  he  be,  is  trying  to  save  the  life  of  one 
Captain  Dangerfield,  a  most  gallant,  well-afifected 
youth." 

"  His  dear  friend."  Capell  rejoined  briefly,  cutting 
him  short  without  ceremony.  "  Anyone  who  knows 
Dangerfield  as  I  do  understands  that  when  he  calleth 
any  man  friend,  though  he  be  the  blackest  enemy  of 

341 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

this  cause  of  ours,  yet  would  Dangerfield  hold  him 
harmless  even  at  the  point  of  the  sword.  But  I  have 
not  time  to  bandy  words,  worthy  sir.  Give  me  ten,  and 
I'll  be  content,  if  I  may  procure  them  quickly.  This 
Papist  is  a  very  fox,  and  must  be  run  to  earth  at  once, 
or  he'll  escape." 

With  a  sigh  Sir  Francis  signed  the  required  order  to 
the  officer  in  charge  of  the  garrison. 

"  Be  wary,  sir,"  he  pleaded  gently,  "  and  be  not  too 
forward  in  your  zeal.  At  least  the  doctor  should  have 
gentle  treatment.  I  remember  that  they  despaired  of 
the  young  captain.  The  man  is  on  a  Christian  errand." 
Capell  bowed  without  reply,  and  departed  to  collect  his 
men.  He  found,  however,  that  no  one  was  very  anxious 
to  go.  A  Papist  might  be  bad  and  a  spy  worse;  but 
to  search  Cromwell's  house  —  that  was  another  matter. 

Once  on  the  march  for  Ely,  Capell  forced  the  troopers 
to  a  swinging  pace,  and  reached  his  destination  at  dusk. 
As  he  approached  the  familiar  house  a  sudden  hesitation 
came  upon  him.  It  had  been  originally  his  intention 
to  make  as  much  stir  as  possible,  and  publish  far  and 
wide  the  fact  that  a  malignant  had  been  found  under 
Cromwell's  protection;  but  now  another  thought  came 
into  his  mind,  and  dismissing  his  men  to  an  inn,  he 
went  to  the  house  alone.  The  servant  admitted  him 
with  evident  unwillingness,  and  left  him  standing  in  the 
hall  while  she  went  to  call  Rachel.  He  stood  by  the 
fire  and  kicked  the  logs  about.  He  was  bitter  and 
angry  and  unaccountably  nervous.  He  laughed  at  him- 
self scornfully.  There  was  no  reason  for  it  whatever. 
Though  still  a  step  below  Cromwell  in  rank,  he  was  in 
high  favour  with  the  chiefs  of  Parliament  and  of  the 
army.  Moreover,  in  the  present  instance,  he  was  mas- 
ter of  a  situation  which  he  could  and  would  make  very 
unpleasant  for  Cromwell. 

It  was  the  end  of  October,  1643.  A  sudden  change 
had  come  over  the  face  of  public  affairs.     The  covenant 

342 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

was  being-  signed,  and  this  meant  aid  from  the  Scottish 
army  for  the  ParHament,  and,  what  is  more  important 
to  us,  the  triumph  of  Presbyterianism  over  other  sects 
and  all  "unbelievers."  Capell  knew  this;  he  also  knew 
that  Cromwell's  tolerance  of  "  sectaries  "  was  bringing 
him  into  strong  disfavour  with  many  influential  men. 
It  was  from  Capell's  point  of  view  a  most  auspicious 
time  in  which  to  let  it  be  publicly  known  that  an  accursed 
Papist  was  domiciled  in  Cromwell's  house,  and  in  con- 
stant attendance  upon  one  of  Cromwell's  most  trusted 
officers. 

Why  then  this  nervousness?  The  answer  to  the 
question  lay  in  the  start  he  gave  and  his  change  of 
attitude  when  he  heard  Rachel's  step  in  the  passage. 
There  are  some  things  in  a  man  which  die  hard,  and  the 
more  unreasonable  they  are  the  more  vitality  they  seem 
to  possess.  If  Capell,  when  he  had  left  London  for  Ely, 
had  been  asked  on  oath  —  and  he  was  one  who  under 
such  circumstances  would  never  lie  —  whether  the 
attraction  he  felt  toward  Rachel  a  year  ago  held  the 
smallest  place  in  his  heart  to-day,  he  would  have  stoutly 
denied  it.  He  knew  of  her  betrothal  to  Oliver,  he  knew 
of  the  reconciliation  between  Hepworth  and  Ralph,  and 
he  was,  before  all  things,  a  practical,  hard-headed  man 
of  the  world.  And  yet  —  and  yet  —  it  was  for  Rachel's 
sake  that  he  had  left  his  men  at  an  inn;  and  no  step 
but  hers  would  have  made  him  give  that  start.  He 
tried  to  harden  his  heart.  Cromwell's  bitter  words  rose 
in  his  memory.  What  was  Rachel,  what  could  she  be, 
to  him?  He  said  the  words  to  himself  as  she  approached 
him  and  then  forgot  them,  for  Rachel  came  with  a  cor- 
dial greeting  on  her  lips. 

"  This  is  a  surprise,  sir.  Trulv,  when  the  maid  said 
a  soldier  was  below  on  some  grave  business  from  the 
Parliament,  I  feared  to  see  a  stranger  who  would  require 
a  very  laboured  explanation  of  our  position  and  even 


343 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

then  might  not  be  content.     But  now  I  can  have  no 

fears." 

Rachel  spoke  so  naturally,  with  a  face  of  such  quiet 
composure,  that  it  would  have  deceived  a  cleverer  man 
than  Capell. 

"  I  trust  I  shall  merit  thy  confidence,  madam,"  he 
answered,  smiling  uneasily.  ''  I  would  serve  you,  an  it 
were  in  my  power,  be  assured  of  that.  I  hope  Master 
Hepworth  is  in  good  health.  He  is  still  with  the  regi- 
ment, I  hear." 

"  I  am  writing  to  him  soon,"  said  Rachel  with  a  chill 
at  her  heart  as  she  looked  at  the  hard  determined  face. 
"Have  you  any  message  that  you  would  send?" 

"  My  humble  service,  and  tell  him  that  all  his  friends 
in  London  desire  his  presence  among  them  very 
urgently.  And  now,  madam,  there  be  a  duty  I  must  do 
which  hath  brought  me  here." 

His  tone  changed;  his  face  grew  stern.  Rachel  felt 
desperate.     Then  an  idea  struck  her. 

"  I  wish  to  tell  you,  sir,"  she  said  in  gentle  tones, 
"  that  if  a  rumour  I  have  heard  be  true,  and  you  have 
come  to  Ely  to  search  for  one  Doctor  Taunton,  he  is  in 
this  house." 

Capell's  eyes  became  cold  as  steel.  Rachel's  heart 
sank  again. 

"  I  thank  you,  madam.  It  was  this  that  caused  my 
intrusion.     I  must  see  the  man  and " 

"Pray  come  now,"  Rachel  said  quickly;  "your  time 
is  of  great  value.     I  would  not  unduly  waste  it." 

She  led  the  way  upstairs,  Capell  following  closely. 
'And  now  Rachel,  glancing  up  at  him,  thought  that  his 
face  wore  a  pleasanter  expression,  and  began  to  hope. 
What  a  merciful  chance  it  was,  she  thought,  that  Ned 
Worthyface  happened  to  be  in  Cambridge  when  the 
major  arrived,  and  getting  wind  of  his  errand,  tore  back 
to  Ely  in  time  to  warn  them  before  he  could  arrive 
there!     The  matter  was  terribly  critical.     Doctor  Taun- 

344 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

ton  had  refused  to  fly.  The  fever  had  been  reduced, 
but  Ralph  was  so  weak  that  nothing  but  unremitting 
attention  and  great  skill  would  save  his  life.  "  Let  them 
take  me,"  was  all  the  doctor  said;  "only  see  that  they 
budge  me  not  until  my  boy  is  round  the  corner.  Be 
not  Cromwell  strong  enough  to  hold  them  back,  or  his 
son?" 

Rachel  promised  to  do  her  best,  but  did  not  answer 
the  question.  Cromwell  was  too  far  away,  Oliver  a 
cripple,  and  even  if  he  had  been  able-bodied,  Capell,  she 
knew,  would  be  too  strong  for  him.  Already,  though 
this  she  did  not  tell  the  doctor,  Oliver  was  fretting  him- 
self into  a  fever  over  the  danger  of  the  doctor's  presence 
in  the  house,  and  the  stain  on  the  family  honour  of  har- 
bouring a  Papist.  Thus  the  burden  of  the  day  fell  upon 
her  shoulders;  it  was  a  heavy  one  to  bear. 

They  mounted  the  stairs  and  reached  the  landing  at 
the  door  of  the  sick-room.  There  Rachel  paused,  her 
hand  upon  the  lock;  Capell  was  at  her  side  now;  she 
touched  him  on  his  arm. 

"  Sir,  I  believe  you  to  be  a  just  man  as  you  are  a 
strong  one,  wherefore  I  will  tell  you  two  things  before 
you  enter.  First,  'twas  I  who  sent  for  the  doctor;  none 
knew  him  but  me.  If,  therefore,  there  hath  been  wrong 
done,  I  alone  must  be  punished.  Secondly,  if  you  move 
him  now,  you  kill  his  patient.  Once,  long  ago  " —  here 
Rachel's  eyes  grew  bright  and  large,  her  voice  firm  — 
"  you  did  Captain  Dangerlield  a  wrong.  I  will  not  say 
you  had  no  aggravation,  but  you  wronged  him.  Now 
it  lieth  with  you  to  save  his  life ;  come  in." 

The  room  was  nearly  dark;  a  single  candle  was  the 
only  light,  and  this  was  shaded.  In  the  corner  of  the 
chamber  furthest  from  the  door  Capell  saw  a  bed,  and 
crouched  by  it  the  doctor  —  the  spy  and  Papist  —  his 
finger  on  his  patient's  pulse. 

"A  visitor,"   Rachel   said  in   a  low  voice,   but   very 


345 


CROMWELL'S  OV/N 

clearly,  looking  hard  as  she  spoke  at  Taunton,  "  one 
who  could  not  be  denied  —  Major  Capell." 

She  lifted  the  shade  from  the  candle  and  motioned 
Capell  toward  the  bed.  He  went  there  slowly,  and  then 
stood  still,  with  a  curious,  quite  new,  feeling  clutching 
at  his  heart.  He  had  seen  death  and  wounds  in  plenty, 
but  never  a  man,  whom  he  had  last  known  in  vigorous 
health,  lying  a  thin,  wasted  shadow,  with  hollow  eyes 
and  sunken  cheeks,  helpless  and  weak  as  an  infant. 
Ralph's  eyes  brightened. 

"  Capell,"  he  said  faintly,  so  faintly  that  Capell  could 
barely  recognise  his  voice,  "  this  be  a  good  meeting. 
Thou  hast  been  in  my  mind  of  late,  and  I  am  right 
pleased  to  see  thee.  Dost  know  my  doctor?  Yes,  of 
course;  faith!  'tis  strange  that  we  three  should  be 
together." 

He  paused,  faint  with  the  exertion  of  having  said  so 
much;  but  he  was  quite  himself,  and  his  eyes  went  from 
face  to  face  with  a  wistful  look. 

"How  are  ye?"  Capell  said  to  break  the  pause.  He 
began  to  feel  the  air  of  the  sick-room  oppressive.  "  On 
the  mend?  " 

Ralph  shook  his  head.  "  I  think  not,  but  ask  my 
doctor;  it  lies  in  God's  hands  and  his.  Thou  art  a  major 
now?  " 

"  Aye,  of  foot." 

"  It  was  a  just  promotion." 

Another  pause;  then  Ralph  stretched  out  a  hand,  and 
Capell  put  his  into  it. 

"  We  may  not  meet  again,"  Ralph  said;  "  I  would  ask 
your  forgiveness  for  any  wrong  I  did  thee.  Wilt  give 
it  and  be  friends?"  His  voice  was  low  and  tremulous; 
Capell's  face  twitched. 

"  The  forgiveness  will  have  to  be  double-edged,"  he 
answered.     "  I  wronged  thee  sore." 

The  words  came  jerkily,  as  if  against  the  speaker's 

346 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

will,  but  the  strong  hand  closed  over  Ralph's  and  held 
it;  Ralph  smiled. 

"  I  gave  thee  much  provocation.  I  know  it  now, 
comrade." 

Tears  came  into  his  eyes,  the  tears  of  weakness,  and 
then  Capell's  other  hand  joined  the  first. 

"  Think  no  more  of  it,  Dangerfield,"  he  said  hoarsely. 
"  The  matter's  at  an  end,  and  God  bless  thee." 

He  rose  from  the  bedside  and  looked  round  at  the 
others.  His  mind  was  a  queer  medley  of  emotions.  He 
was  touched,  and  really  meant  his  words,  yet  above  all 
his  heart  was  joyful  with  the  conviction  that  this  man 
could  not  live.  And  so  thinking,  he  met  Rachel's 
appealing  glance. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  watching  her,  "  I  came  to  make 
an  arrest;  I  hold  the  warrant  from  Parliament.  Naught 
could  stop  the  course  of  it  but  mine  own  will,  but  you 
have  turned  my  purpose.  I  return  as  I  came  —  without 
my  prisoner," 

He  bowed  and  was  leaving  the  room,  expecting 
Rachel  to  follow  him,  when  she  ran  to  the  bed,  and  he 
saw  that  Ralph's  eyes  were  closed  and  that  he  lay  insen- 
sible.    A  fierce  excitement  seized  him. 

"  He  is  dead!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Nay,  friend,"  said  Taunton  drily,  speaking  for  the 
first  time,  "  not  dead,  nor  near  it;  'tis  a  faint.  He'll  live, 
if  my  experience  hath  taught  me  anything,  to  be  as 
strong  and  lusty  as  thyself." 


CHAPTER  XXXVIT 

CAPELL  remained  that  night  in  Cromwell's  house, 
an  honoured  guest,  and  went  away  the  next  day 
well  pleased  with  himself.  He  spent  the  evening  with 
Oliver,  who  laid  himself  out  to  be  agreeable,  and  found 
rCapell  in  his  present  mood  good  company. 

"  I  like  the  man,"  Oliver  said  with  emphasis  after  the 
major  had  gone.  "He  hath  been  maligned.  Indeed," 
he  added  with  a  queer  laugh,  "  it  surpriseth  me  that 
father  should  have  given  preference  to  Ralph  as  a  sol- 
dier. This  Capell,  mark  me,  is  a  stronger  man.  I'd 
have  called  him  one  after  the  dad's  heart.  He'll  be  a 
good  commander  some  day." 

Rachel,  who  was  at  work  in  the  corner  of  the  room, 
did  not  reply  for  a  few  minutes.  When  Oliver  saw  her 
face  it  was  rather  flushed, 

"  None  can  doubt  that  he  hath  strength  and  a  shrewd 
brain,"  she  said.  "  But  a  man  if  he  would  win  your 
father's  heart  must  give  evidence  of  honour  and  high 
principle.  Yet  I  say  not,"  she  added  hastily,  "that  he 
is  without  these  qualities.  We  owe  much  to  his  for- 
bearance. And  yet  I  am  truly  thankful  he  hath  gone. 
I  fear  him  now  more  than  I  did.  I  think  it  is  because 
there  is  a  depth  in  him,  a  kind  of  reticence,  that  maketh 
it  impossible  to  read  his  thoughts." 

Oliver  laughed. 

"  He  might  be  thine  own  brother  for  that,  mistress. 
Eh,"  as  Rachel  looked  up  surprised  and  hurt,  "  dost  not 
know  that  thou,  too,  art  deep,  deep  as  a  well?  'Deed, 
but  thou  art,  and  that  is  why  I  like  Capell,  which  surely 
is    a    very    pretty    compliment,"    he    added    teasingly. 

34S 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Rachel   smiled   and  turned   the   conversation   to   other 
things. 

Meanwhile  Capell  journeyed  to  London,  dropping  his 
men  at  Cambridge  without  any  explanation  to  Sir 
Francis  Bacon.  He  reported  to  his  superiors  that  the 
Papist,  being  in  attendance  as  physician  on  a  dear  friend 
of  Cromwell's  and  under  his  protection,  could  not  have 
been  removed  without  a  desperate  quarrel  with  the 
colonel,  an  explanation  believed  readily  by  those  who 
knew  Cromwell,  and  as  the  moment  was  not  at  all  oppor- 
tune for  a  serious  difiference  with  him,  Capell  was  com- 
plimented upon  his  discretion.  Soon  after  this  he 
received  the  offer  of  a  commission  in  a  regiment  of 
horse  in  the  army  of  the  eastern  counties,  which  was 
now  commanded  by  Lord  Willoughby,  with  the  Earl 
of  Manchester  as  lieutenant-general.  Capell  readily 
accepted,  but  in  the  midst  of  preparations  to  go  north 
he  heard  from  Hep  worth  that  Ralph  was  out  of  danger, 
and  that  Doctor  Taunton  had  left  Ely.  This  news 
changed  his  plans,  for  he  had  intended  to  call  at  Ely  on 
his  way  to  the  army.  He  had  no  wish  to  do  so  now, 
and  it  was  in  a  very  bitter  mood  that  he  took  up  his 
duties  in  Lincolnshire.  In  defiance  of  all  reason  and 
common  sense,  he  had  nourished  hopes  and  built  castles 
in  the  air,  which  now  began  to  crumble  slowly  away. 
He  bore  no  ill-will  to  Ralph,  of  that  he  was  confident, 
nor  did  he  regret  having  spared  Taunton,  though  he 
failed  to  follow  up  this  thought  and  acknowledge  that 
had  he  not  done  so  he  would  have  estranged  Rachel. 
But  he  felt  it  hard,  nay,  positively  unjust,  that  God 
should  have  spared  his  rival's  life.  Capell  lived  in  an 
age  when  even  grave,  acute  men  of  the  world  thought 
it  no  shame  to  solicit  direct  intervention  from  the 
Almighty  in  their  daily  affairs.  Their  belief  that  their 
supplications  would  be  answered  by  miracles  was  the 
result  of  a  very  literal  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  a  confidence  that,  as  they  had  obeyed  God's  will, 

349 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  would  carry  out  their  wishes  to  the  letter.  Capell 
hitherto  had  been  far  from  sharing  this  extraordinary- 
creed,  but  his  secret  broodings,  the  loneliness  of  his  life, 
and  the  strength  of  his  passions  brought  him  by  degrees 
to  this  conviction:  that,  as  he  had  served  God  all  his 
days,  living  soberly  and  piously,  enduring  a  very  hard 
and  joyless  life,  he  had  now  a  right  to  his  reward.  And 
there  was  only  one  reward  he  cared  for  —  Rachel  Fuller- 
ton.  That  Rachel  had  no  feeling  for  him  but  a  distant 
friendship,  tempered  by  distrust,  and  perhaps  fear,  was 
a  minor  matter  in  a  time  when  women  too  often  did 
not  what  they  desired,  but  what  they  must,  and  when 
war  had  inflamed  men's  passions  and  made  all  things 
possible  to  the  successful  and  the  strong.  Her  betrothal 
to  Oliver  was  an  awkward  fact.  But  with  a  lover's 
quick  instinct,  Capell  saw  that  her  heart  was  not  in  it,  and 
he  was  confident  of  his  power  over  Hepworth,  and  of 
his  ability,  when  the  right  time  came,  to  foment  so  vio- 
lent a  quarrel  between  Cromwell  and  the  minister,  that, 
backed  by  the  influence  of  Cromwell's  superiors  in  the 
army  and  in  Parliament,  he  could  draw  Rachel  once 
more  under  her  uncle's  care,  and  remove  her  to  London. 
After  that  all  would  be  easy.  There  remained,  however, 
Ralph  Dangerfield.  In  this  man  Capell  saw  the  great- 
est obstacle  to  all  his  hopes.  This  gloomy  presentiment 
did  not  come  from  any  exaggerated  notion  of  Ralph's 
strength;  Capell  still  looked  upon  him  with  a  certain 
contempt  as  a  sentimentalist,  but  he  respected  his  cour- 
age and  determination,  and,  above  all,  he  feared  his 
capacity  for  making  friends.  It  was  that  which  kept 
Cromwell  and  every  man  in  the  first  troop  upon  his 
side,  and  that  which  now  caused  even  Hepworth  to 
speak  of  him  in  a  way  which  was  gall  and  wormwood 
to  Capell. 

"  Why,  if  the  man  should  turn,  or  pretend  to  turn, 
from    his    unbelief,"    he    thought,    "  Hepworth    would 


350 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

embrace  him  as  the  sinner  that  repenteth,  and  I'd  be 
left  in  the  cold." 

He  made  ready  to  journey  north,  however,  none  the 
less  quickly  for  his  despondency,  and  before  he  had  com- 
pleted half  the  distance  to  Lincolnshire  had  forgiven  his 
Creator  for  sparing  Ralph's  life,  and  become  possessed 
of  a  stubborn  belief  that  all  would  yet  be  well — a  train 
of  thought  which,  translated  into  plain  English,  meant 
that  if  his  reward  were  not  to  fall  into  his  lap  he  would 
go  forth  and  take  it  for  himself,  using  any  means  that 
were  necessary  to  gain  his  end. 

At  Ely  the  invalids  mended  day  by  day,  and  the 
mental  irritation  at  being  useless  and  inactive  from 
which  both  suffered  was  mitigated  by  the  knowledge 
that  until  winter  was  over  there  could  be  no  fighting. 
The  armies  of  the  king  and  Parliament  were  waiting, 
making  ready  as  best  they  might  for  the  campaign  of 
next  year,  which  both  felt  must  decide  the  war. 

It  was  a  quiet  winter  in  the  house  at  Ely.  Ralph  only 
gained  strength  at  a  very  slow  rate,  and  Doctor  Cope- 
stake  found  him  a  most  trying  patient.  At  one  time  he 
was  furiously  restless  and  inclined  to  attempt  any  mad 
thing  to  prove  that  he  was  stronger  than  he  seemed  and 
might  return  to  his  duties;  at  another  he  was  dull  and 
spiritless,  avoiding  company  —  grimly  hopeless.  These 
moods  were  only  known  to  his  doctor  and  Oliver. 
Before  the  rest  of  the  family  Ralph  was  grave,  polite, 
and  quiet.  But  with  Oliver,  with  whom  he  naturally 
spent  a  good  deal  of  his  time,  he  attempted  no  conceal- 
ment; and  Oliver,  who  was  very  fond  of  Ralph  when  he 
did  not  think  Rachel  did  too  much  for  him,  was  dis- 
tressed on  his  account,  and  spoke  to  his  father  about  it. 
Cromwell,  however,  pooh-poohed  the  matter,  and  said 
these  were  humours  which  active  service  would  soon  get 
rid  of;  it  was  but  bodily  weakness.  But  Cromwell  was 
anxious,  and  watched  Ralph  closely.  He  watched 
Rachel  also,  and  satisfied  himself  that  all  was  well  with 

351 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

her.  She  looked  pale  and  tired,  and  had  lost  much  of 
her  former  briskness  of  movement;  but  that  was  natural 
after  all  her  anxiety  and  hard  work. 

Ralph  steadily  grew  stronger,  and  by  January,  when, 
owing  to  a  mild,  dry  winter,  the  army  was  to  begin 
active  operations,  Doctor  Copestake  pronounced  him  fit 
to  return  to  work.  He  went  in  a  hurry  at  the  last.  One 
afternoon,  when  all  were  out  but  Madam  Cromwell,  a 
trooper  arrived  in  hot  haste,  bearing  a  letter  from  Crom- 
well, who  was  now  with  the  army,  saying  that  the  first 
troop  had  been  chosen  to  share  in  a  "  brisk  piece  of 
work,"  and  asking  Ralph  whether  he  would  come  and 
take  command.  Ralph  did  not  hesitate  a  moment.  He 
despatched  the  man  to  the  kitchen  for  refreshments,  and 
went  to  Madam  Cromwell's  room. 

"  Must  thou  then  leave  us  so  suddenly?  "  she  said  with 
a  sigh.  "Yet  why  do  I  say  that?  Tis  far  better  so. 
I'll  give  thy  farewells,  Ralph,  to  all  —  all,"  looking  at 
him  keenly.  "Thou'rt  to  be  envied,  friend.  Indeed, 
thou  art!  Thy  life  has  been  spared  by  a  miracle,  and 
not  for  naught.  Thou  hast  the  world  to  conquer,  and 
I  believe  thou'lt  do  it,  for  thou  hast  overcome  thy  worst 
enemy  —  thyself!  Farewell,  and  may  God  protect 
thee!" 

Ralph  was  very  weary  and  faint  by  the  time  he 
reached  the  end  of  his  long  journey,  but  the  reception 
from  his  troop  put  fresh  life  and  vigour  into  him.  As 
he  rode  among  them  the  men  made  blunt  comments  on 
his  worn  looks;  while  Reuben,  Micklejohn,  and  Sanctify 
grasped  him  by  the  hand  and  thanked  God  he  was  with 
them  again. 

When  Ralph  reported  himself  to  Cromwell,  he  found 
his  colonel  engaged  with  the  commander-in-chief,  so  he 
went  back  to  his  own  quarters  for  supper.  He  had  not 
been  there  long  before,  to  his  great  surprise,  in  came 
Capell.  Ralph  greeted  him  with  the  cordiality  of  an 
old  friend,  but  received  a  chilling  response.     The  major 

352 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

was  as  cold  as  in  former  days;  his  manner,  though 
poHte,  had  no  heartiness  in  it:  it  was  that  of  the  old 
Capell. 

"Hast  not  seen  Cromwell?"  he  inquired.  "Then 
you  know  not  what  is  forward.  A  stronghold  of 
malignancy,  a  very  nest  of  them  —  one  Stainsby  House, 
ten  miles  to  the  north  of  us  —  is  to  be  reduced  on  the 
morrow,  and  Lord  Willoughby  hath  given  the  business 
unto  me.  He  alloweth  two  troops  and  some  ordnance, 
the  men  to  be  picked  for  the  work.  I  chose  a  goodly 
company  from  mine  own  regiment  and  then  bethought 
me  of  thy  troop,  for  I  knew  the  men  of  old  as  trusty, 
and  I  knew  thee."  Capell  smiled  here,  adding  in  a 
more  cordial  tone  than  he  had  used  yet,  "  We  have  had 
some  differences,  Dangerfield,  but  none  that  I  remem- 
ber on  the  field  of  battle.  Yet,  now  that  I  see  thee, 
art  strong  enough  ?  " 

Ralph  reassured  him  with  emphasis. 

"  Well,  then,  let  it  be  so.  Now  we  will  consult.  I 
have  obtained  a  plan  of  the  place." 

A  discussion  followed  as  to  the  best  mode  of  attack, 
and  Capell's  manner  grew  distinctly  more  natural  and 
friendly;  but  at  the  end,  when  they  were  about  to  sepa- 
rate, he  stiffened  again. 

"  I  have  not  asked  the  mettle  of  the  garrison,"  said 
Ralph.     "Dost  know  it,  and  who  commands?" 

"  The  men  be  mostly  Papists  drawn  from  Newcastle's 
army,  the  governor  a  man  of  some  mark,  one  of  Rupert's 
colonels,  the  Viscount  Charlton." 

Ralph  started  and  looked  hard  into  Capell's  face.  It 
was  composed,  even  stolid  in  expression,  but  paler  than 
usual,  the  lips  a  little  pinched  —  a  mask. 

"  Foul  play!  "  Ralph  muttered  as  he  turned  back  into 
his  quarters.  "  I  was  sure  of  it.  I  felt  it  when  he  said 
he  '  knew '  me.  So  this  is  why  he  chose  us  out  of  all 
the  troops  who'd  so  gladly  serve  with  him.  Oh,  thou 
cunning  hypocrite!     But  this  time  I  see  through  him; 

23  353 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

and  now  I  have  Cromwell  at  my  back.     Beware,  Capell, 
beware." 

Ralph  awakened  at  a  very  early  hour  next  day,  and 
made  a  very  careful  inspection  of  his  men.  This  was 
just  over,  and  they  were  waiting  for  the  order  to  march, 
when  Reuben  drew  him  aside,  his  weather-beaten  face 
purple  with  excitement. 

"  I've  waited  sin'  ye  came  up,  captain,"  he  whispered. 
"Now  tell  me,  have  ye  worked  out  the  plan  of  attack?" 

"  Aye." 

"Himmel!  'Tis  too  late,  then.  Where's  the  troop 
to  lay?  East  or  west  of  the  main  door  —  to  front  or 
rear?  " 

"  Eastward,  in  the  rear." 

"  God  be  praised,"  and  he  mopped  his  brow.  "  I' 
faith.  His  finger  is  in  it,  I  swear.  'Slife,  sir,  but  now 
we  have  'em  without  doubt.  The  Lord  be  thanked,  the 
Lord  be  thanked." 

It  was  now  Ralph's  turn  to  ask  questions,  but  Reuben 
was  not  communicative. 

"  Nay,  nay,  I  can  tell  ye  nothing  now.  In  a  space, 
when  the  time  comes,  you  shall  know  all.  Only  mark 
me,  case  I  forget.  The  credit  belongs  to  my  little  com- 
rade, Jeremiah.  'Twas  a  rare,  keen  bit  of  work.  Oh, 
how  they'll  bite  their  tongues  when  it  comes  through. 
There'll  be  some  strange  prayers  to-night  from  the  high- 
snifting  ones.     Ho,  ho!" 

"Mean  you  the  malignants?"  Ralph  exclaimed  in 
bewilderment. 

"Malignants!"  cried  the  old  quartermaster,  chuck- 
ling.    "  Nay,  sir,  not  the  malignants." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  with  a  salute,  and  became  pre- 
ternaturally  solemn,  for  Capell  rode  up.  It  was  time 
to  march. 

They  arrived  at  Stainsby  House  at  noon  —  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  men,  and  two  pieces  of  artillery.  All 
was  in  order;  the  ground  had  been  well  surveyed  before- 

354 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

hand,  and  in  an  hour  Capell  had  sent  a  subaltern  with  a 
trumpeter  to  demand  surrender.  His  terms  were  the 
hves  of  the  garrison,  nothing  more.  Ralph  awaited  the 
answer  with  the  worst  forebodings,  for,  according  to  the 
usage  of  the  time,  if  the  terms  were  refused,  and  the 
house  carried  by  storm,  no  quarter  would  be  given. 
The  subaltern  was  not  long  on  his  errand.  He  returned 
with  a  sheet  of  paper,  on  which  were  these  words :  — 

"  If  Major  Capell  desireth  this  poor  house,  let  him 
take  it.     Charlton." 

The  major  handed  the  note  to  Ralph  without  com- 
ment, and  then  addressed  the  troops:  — 

"  These  Papists  send  us  insolent  defiance,  wherefore 
we  shall  make  the  assault  forthwith.  You  have  full 
knowledge  of  your  duties;  see  ye  fulfil  them.  Captain 
Dangerfield's  troop  will  remember  that  they  commence 
not  to  attack  until  they  hear  a  drake  fired.  Then  let 
them  plant  their  ladders  with  all  speed.  Now  to  your 
posts !  Let  none  forget  " —  he  raised  his  voice  — "  that 
our  terms  have  been  refused.  I  charge  ye,  therefore,  to 
spare  not  any,  be  they  whom  they  may." 

Stainsby  House  lay  in  the  midst  of  a  great  park.  It 
was  an  old,  rambling  manor-house;  and  though  difficult 
to  approach  in  front,  where  Capell  was  placing  his  guns, 
in  rear,  once  the  high  outer  walls  were  scaled,  it  would 
offer  no  serious  difficulties  to  a  determined  assault, 
unless  defended  by  a  very  numerous  garrison.  It  was 
probable,  however,  that  these  walls  would  be  well 
watched,  and  Ralph  was  to  place  his  men  under  cover 
of  the  thick  timber  in  the  park  until  Capell  gave  the 
signal  for  attack.  This  he  was  about  to  do  when 
Reuben  plucked  him  by  the  sleeve. 

"Hold  a  moment,  sir;  keep  the  troop  back.  Jem,  ye 
cockerel,  come  hither  and  tell  thy  tale.  Quickly  now! 
There  be  no  time  to  waste." 

The  little  corporal  came  forward  with  a  complacent 
grin. 

355 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"'Slid,  sir,  I  have  little  to  tell.  Being  sent  to  spy 
about  the  place,  I  thought  it  my  duty  " —  he  coughed  — 
"  to  make  acquaintance  with  a  maid  I  met  hereabouts, 
who  served  the  household,  she  telled  me,  by  coming  to 
and  fro  from  the  village.  She  knew  not  my  persuasion, 
my  dress  being  of  a  smarter  cut  than  this,  and  —  and 
we  presently  came  to  confidences,  and  then  I  found  she 
entered  the  place  by  a  postern  in  the  wall,  hid  by  ivy 
and  the  like.  She  would  not  tell  me  where  it  lay,  though 
I  pressed  her  hard,  but  I  followed  her  by  stealth  one 
night,  and  by  good  fortune  I  found  it.  When  I  told  the 
quartermaster,  he " 

"  Came  to  you,  sir,"  Sweetlove  chimed  in,  "  but  not 
until  'twas  sure  those  dreaping  Lincolners  of  ours  had 
gone  another  way.  Forgive  me,  captain,  but  I  feared 
you'd  tell  the  major,  and  our  game  be  spoiled.  Now  we 
await  your  orders." 

He  drew  himself  up  and  saluted.  His  face  was  per- 
fectly wooden  once  more. 

Ralph  tried  to  frown. 

"  'Twas  not  right,  quartermaster.  He  would  have 
changed  the  plan  of  attack." 

"  r  faith  he  would,"  was  the  reply,  "  wherefore  —  but 
'tis  done,  sir,  and  what  now?  " 

Ralph  smiled. 

"  I  see  thou'rt  incorrigible.  Certainly  there  is  but  one 
thing  to  do.  Lead  on,  corporal.  Men,  extend  your 
lines  and  be  wary  as  we  advance.  They  may  have  got 
wind  of  this  and  make  a  sally.     Steady  now  —  march!" 

A  proud  man  was  Jeremiah  as  he  strutted  along  at 
the  head  of  the  troop,  his  helmet  tilted  a  little  on  one 
side,  his  step  the  swagger  and  swing  characteristic  all 
the  world  over  of  an  old  cavalryman.  But  though  a 
coxcomb,  he  knew  his  business  well.  He  had  marked 
the  place  in  the  wall,  and  now  drawing  his  sword, 
knocked  gently  three  times  at  a  little  iron-studded  door 
about  four  feet  high.     It  opened  in  answer  to  the  sum- 

356 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

mons,  but  only  a  few  inches,  and  would  have  been 
quickly  closed  had  not  Jem's  sword  prevented  it.  In  a 
moment  the  postern  was  forced  back,  the  sentinel,  a 
half-sodden,  drowsy  pikeman,  secured  and  gagged,  and 
the  Ironsides  were  in  a  long,  dark  passage.  Now  came 
the  boom  of  a  gun;  the  attack  in  front  had  begun.  The 
troop,  with  Ralph  leading,  strode  quickly  down  the 
passage  to  a  stairway,  up  a  flight  of  steps,  into  the  main 
hall.  They  met  no  one  on  the  way.  In  the  hall  they 
found  a  score  of  musketeers  on  guard. 

"Make  ready  to  fire,"  Ralph  cried;  then,  catching 
sight  of  Charlton  himself,  "  My  lord,  surrender.  You 
are  outnumbered.     Your  sword!" 

Charlton's  reply  was  an  oath  and  an  order  to  his  men 
to  fire,  but  it  was  not  obeyed.  Already  half  the  Iron- 
sides were  in  the  hall,  their  carabines  at  the  shoulder. 
The  Royalists  held  back. 

"Cowards!  fools!"  Charlton  cried,  not  recognising 
Ralph  for  the  moment;  "  wouldst  be  cut  down,  then, 
like  sheep  in  shambles?  Knowst  not  that  these  dogs 
give  no  quarter?     Upon  them  with  the  sword! " 

He  turned  to  lead  the  charge,  then  paused  suddenly. 

"God!  'tis  Ralph!  Pish,  man!  I  saw  thee  not.  All's 
well,  then.  Men,  lay  down  your  arms.  I  know  this 
gentleman." 

He  lowered  the  point  of  his  sword,  and  was  about  to 
hand  it  to  Ralph,  when  a  man  from  the  Ironside  ranks 
rushed  at  him  crying:  — 

"Quarter!  nay,  accursed  antichrist!  'Tis  to  be  hip 
and  thigh.  Our  major  laid  upon  us  the  command. 
Comrades,  what  this  captain  says  is  of  no  worth.  Come 
you  on." 

The  speaker  was  a  lay-preacher  and  bitter  fanatic,  and 
had  only  lately  joined  the  troop.  He  rushed  past  Ralph 
and  thrust  savagely  at  Charlton,  but  his  lordship  was 
too  quick  for  him,  stepping  lightly  to  one  side,  and 
before  his  assailant  could  recover  Ralph  had  dealt  him 

357 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  buffet  under  the  ear  that  threw  him  heavily  to  the 
ground. 

"Mutiny,  wouldst  thou?  Lie  there,  or  I'll  kill  thee 
like  a  dog.  Men  " —  he  faced  his  troop,  and  saw  uncer- 
tain glances  and  uneasy  movement  — "  men  of  Crom- 
well's Own,  will  you  dishonour  me,  or  wilt  stand  by  me? 
There  be  the  issue.  I  have  called  on  the  governor  of 
this  place  to  surrender,  and  he  hath  offered  me  his 
sword.  His  men  have  not  fired  on  ye.  No  blood  is 
spilt.     Will  ye  butcher  helpless  men?" 

He  looked  down  the  lines  of  faces,  but  he  gained  little 
assurance  of  support  from  them.  Then  a  man  left  the 
ranks  and  stood  squarely  by  his  side.  It  was  Sanctify 
Jordan. 

"  Verily,  sir,"  he  said  in  his  deep  sepulchral  tones,  "  I 
think,  saving  your  presence,  'tis  madness  to  stand  'tween 
lions  and  their  prey;  yet,  since  you've  chosen  to  so  stand, 
I  must  e'en  stand  by  ye.  And,  to  my  sorrow,  I  warn 
all  in  hearing  that  the  first,  aye,  and  the  second  and  the 
third  who  shall  gainsay  ye,  will  taste  my  broadsword's 
edge.  Prithee,  friends,  art  men  or  devils.  That  be  the 
true  issue.  As  concerning  command,  who  be  this 
major  that  one  hath  prated  of?  Did  not  Noll  cast  him 
from  us;  and  did  we  not  approve?  Then  see  to  it  that 
you  keep  your  sense.  Strike  ye  enemies  who  can  strike 
back,  or  those  who'd  hound  ye  on  to  murder  unarmed 
men,  but  dispute  not  with  thy  best  friend,  the  captain. 
Have  I  not  spoken  aright?" 

"Aye,  by  God,  thou  hast,"  yelled  little  Mickeljohn, 
who,  but  for  Sweetlove,  would  have  pistolled  out  of 
hand  the  man  whom  Ralph  knocked  down.  "  I'd  not 
ha'  thought  'twas  in  thee,  sop-stick.  Reuben,  raise  thy 
voice." 

"  Not  I,"  the  old  quartermaster  said  coolly,  "  there  be 
no  need.  We  be  all  united,  and  will  stand  by  the  captain 
to  a  man." 


358 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  walked  slowly  up  to  Ralph  and,  to  Charlton's 
amazement,  laid  a  paternal  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Take  it  as  past,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  and  give 
your  orders;  the  men  are  thine." 

Ralph  sheathed  his  sword  and  whispered  back, 
"Thanks,  old  friend!  Sanctify,  command  me,"  then 
aloud,  "  Quartermaster,  see  these  prisoners  be  disarmed. 
My  Lord  Charlton,  prithee  hoist  a  flag  of  truce  and  open 
the  gates.  I  solemnly  assure  you  that  this  household 
shall  receive  protection." 


CHAPTER   XXXVIII 

THE  firing  slackened  at  the  gates  when  the  white  flag 
was  raised,  and  ceased  as  the  doors  of  Stainsby 
House  opened  to  admit  the  Lincolners.  Capell's  com- 
pany was  in  a  very  sulky  mood;  they  now  foresaw  that 
Cromwell's  troop  would  claim  all  the  credit  of  the  vic- 
tory, and  they  asked  each  other,  with  many  muttered 
imprecations,  how  the  Ironsides  could  have  made  such 
easy  work  of  it.  They  were  in  no  mood  to  be  merciful 
to  the  garrison.  Capell  was  as  furious  as  his  men, 
though  he  showed  it  the  least. 

"  Steady!  "  he  said  sternly,  "  no  crowding,  no  disorder; 
there  may  be  treachery  in  this.  Mind  the  words  I  spake 
— 'No  quarter!'     March." 

Stainsby  House  had  been  built  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, but  in  the  days  of  Elizabeth  its  owner  had  added  a 
new  front,  with  a  magnificent  entrance  hall,  paved  with 
white  marble.  The  walls  were  hung  with  tapestry,  old 
swords  and  lances,  armour  of  a  bygone  day,  and  trophies 
of  the  chase.  A  broad  carved  staircase,  facing  the  door, 
led  to  the  upper  part  of  the  house. 

The  Lincolners  advanced  briskly  to  the  door,  then, 
halting  with  one  accord,  waited  for  orders  with  an 
exclamation  of  disgust.  In  the  centre  of  the  hall,  the 
Ironsides  stood  in  rank  at  attention.  Their  lines  as  care- 
fully accurately  dressed  as  if  upon  parade.  They  filled 
the  body  of  the  hall,  only  leaving  clear  a  narrow  space 
down  which  three  men  could  march  abreast,  forming  a 
lane  from  the  door  to  the  staircase.  On  these  stairs, 
unarmed,  but  without  bonds,  and  showing  no  signs  of 
ill-usage,  were  a  crowd  of  prisoners  —  men,  women,  and 

360 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

children,  to  the  number  of  eighty;  and  above  them, 
standing  in  a  gallery  which  led  from  the  stairway  to  the 
upper  chambers,  were  a  guard  of  ten  more  troopers. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  stood  Ralph  and  Lord  Charl- 
ton, The  Viscount  was  a  brave  and  gallant  figure, 
dressed  in  scarlet  doublet,  edged  with  gold  braid,  his  fair 
hair  falling  over  his  shoulders  in  long  curls;  his  head 
was  erect,  and  his  bearing  courteous,  yet  dignified. 
Had  he  worn  his  sword,  one  would  have  judged  him 
the  victor  of  the  day.  Yet  he  was  a  very  different  man 
from  the  Charlton  of  olden  times.  Responsibilities,  care, 
and  hardship  had  worn  away  all  the  coarseness  in  his 
strong  face;  there  were  no  traces  left  of  the  man  of 
pleasure.  And  more  than  that,  these  hard  years  had 
not  been  without  sweet  fruit;  love  had  found  its  way 
into  his  life.  Beside  him  now,  her  hand  within  his  arm, 
stood  his  wife.  They  had  been  married  a  month,  and 
this  was  the  last  day  of  their  honeymoon.  A  tall  and 
winsome  lady,  with  soft  dark  eyes,  which  have  a  name- 
less terror  in  them,  for  she  distrusts  these  grim  soldiers 
in  the  hall,  and  those  fierce,  flushed  faces  crowding 
through  the  doorway  fill  her  heart  with  a  sickening 
dread. 

Capell,  after  a  swift  glance  round  him  and  one 
instant's  hesitation,  walked  swiftly  up  to  Ralph. 

"The  place  is  ours,  then?" 

"  Aye,  major.  A  secret  postern  was  discovered  in  the 
rear,  so  we  took  them  by  surprise.  No  lives  were  lost. 
This  be  the  governor  and  his  lady,  yonder  the  garrison; 
their  arms  are  in  our  hands.  Lord  Charlton  will  sign 
such  terms  of  capitulation  as  we  desire." 

"What  say  you?  " 

There  was  an  ugly  gleam  in  Capell's  eyes.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  Ralph  spoke  in  a  tone  deliberately  calculated 
to  lower  his  authority,  and  make  him  an  object  of  ridicule 
to  his  men  and  the  prisoners.  There  was  also  an  easy 
confidence  and  suggestion  of  superior  rank  in  the  bear- 

361 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

ing  of  Lord  Charlton  which  galled  him  terribly.  Under 
other  circumstances  he  would  have  acquiesced  in  the 
necessity  of  sparing  the  lives  of  men  who  had  yielded  so 
easily.  He  was  not  naturally  cruel,  but  now  his  bitter 
temper  was  aroused,  and  Lady  Charlton,  anxiously  scan- 
ning his  face,  shuddered  and  shrank  closer  to  her 
husband. 

"  I  make  no  terms,"  he  said,  with  a  cold  distinctness 
far  more  terrifying  than  any  outburst  of  wrath,  "  neither 
is  it  your  place  to  suggest  them  after  my  orders  touching 
the  assault.  But  you  ever  counted  Papists  and  malig- 
nants  dearer  than  your  comrades  or  their  cause.  I'll 
have  none  of  it.  His  lordship  can  expect  no  mercy  at 
my  hands.  He  chose  his  path;  let  him  tread  it  to  the 
bitter  end.  My  orders  are  from  the  commander-in- 
chief;  I'll  obey  them  to  the  letter.  See  that  thou  hearken 
sir.  Retire  with  me  without  the  gates,  and  leave  these 
wretches,  male  and  female,  to  the  fate  to  which  their 
past  usage  of  the  godly  justly  condemns  them.  The  Vis- 
count and  his  wife  shall  be  prisoners  in  our  hands;  the 
rest  I  give  unto  the  men  to  work  their  will  upon. 
Quartermaster,"  he  beckoned  —  and  a  man  left  the  ranks 
of  Lincolners,  and  came  slowly,  very  slowly,  towards 
him  — "  secure  this  man  and  woman,  and  safeguard  them 
to  the  camp.     Captain,  follow  me." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  moved  away,  and  a  cry  of 
terror  and  dismay  rose  from  the  women  on  the  stairs. 
Ralph  gasped  for  breath.  His  rage  was  so  intense  and 
overpowering  that  for  an  instant  he  could  not  speak,  but 
before  he  recovered  a  gruff,  deep  voice  rang  through  the 
hall,  and  between  the  advancing  quartermaster  of  the 
Lincolners  and  Capell  the  gaunt  form  of  old  Reuben 
Sweetlove  barred  the  wa}'. 

"  Thou  speakest  thy  mind,  major,"  he  said,  "  as  thou 
hast  a  right  to  do.  But,  by  God's  life,  sir,  I  am  a  free 
soldier  of  the  Parliament,  and  not  thy  servant,  and 
therefore  I'll  speak  mine.     Halt,  thou  cur!"  addressing 

362 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  Lincolner  in  a  tone  that  rumbled  and  echoed  through 
the  hall;  "an  thou  advance  within  the  swing  of  my  arm 
thy  life  shall  pay  for  it.  Captain  Dangerfield,  orders 
have  been  given  to  the  men  without.  What  hast  thou 
for  thine?" 

He  paused,  and  the  answer  followed  swiftly: — 

"  Withstand  by  force  of  arms  all  who  interfere  between 
ye  and  your  prisoners.     Men,  close  your  ranks." 

The  clang  of  spurred  heels  on  the  marble  hall,  and, 
with  the  precision  of  the  drill-ground,  the  Ironsides 
ranged  themselves  in  four  lines  across  the  hall,  and 
stood  between  the  panting  Lincolners  and  their  prey  — 
a  wall  of  threatening  steel. 

Capell's  eyes  flashed  fire. 

"Insubordination!  mutiny!  Thy  wits  are  a-wander- 
ing,  Dangerfield.  A  little  more,  and  thou  wilt  be  a  pris- 
oner thyself.  Down  arms,  ye  fools!  Lincolners,  advance 
to  the  attack!  If  any  resist  ye  it  will  be  at  their  peril. 
March!" 

He  drew  his  sword,  and  to  give  the  men  the  encour- 
agement they  obviously  needed  dashed  away  the  carabine 
of  the  trooper  nearest  to  him.  The  next  moment  Ralph, 
whose  blood  was  at  boiling  point,  struck  his  sword  from 
his  hand. 

"  Nay,  that  thou  shalt  not  do,"  he  cried,  then  to  his 
men,  "  Give  not  an  inch,  lads.    Make  ye  ready  to  fire." 

An  uncertain  forward  movement  of  the  Lincolners,  a 
click  and  the  carabines  of  the  Ironsides  were  at  the 
shoulder.  Then  the  Lincolners  shrank  back.  Seeing 
this,  Capell  picked  up  his  sword  and  dropped  it  into  the 
scabbard.  His  face  was  livid  with  passion,  but  by  a 
great  effort  of  self-control  he  preserved  his  coolness  of 
manner. 

"  Halt,  men  of  my  troop.  Captain  Dangerfield,  thou 
hast  filled  thy  cup  until  it  runneth  over.  There  be 
nothing  now  but  for  me  to  leave  thee  to  deal  with  thy 
merry  companions  here  according  to  their  desires.    Give 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

orders  to  thy  troopers  to  let  me  pass."  Ralph  bowed 
politely. 

"Fall  back,  men,  as  you  were.  Major,  I  will  meet  thee 
shortly  at  headqviarters.  I  take  full  responsibility  for  all 
that  hath  happened  here." 

He  bowed  again,  and  Capell  rejoined  his  troop,  which 
withdrew  in  sullen  silence. 

As  they  went  Charlton  struck  Ralph  on  the  shoulder 
with  one  of  his  old  laughs. 

"  My  faith,  but  thou'rt  the  same  Ralph  —  the  very 
same !  Truly,  dear  boy,  an  there  be  many  like  thee  and 
these  brave  lads  among  thy  Puritans,  thou'lt  put  us  Roy- 
alists to  shame.  Sure,  I'll  tell  Rupert  the  whole  tale. 
But  I  would  to  God,"  he  cried  earnestly,  "  that  I  might 
help  thee  once.  Fate  is  cruel  indeed.  Each  time  we 
meet  I  am  thy  debtor,  and  all  the  reward  thou  gettest  is 
the  cursing  of  thy  friends.  'Tis  hard  measure,  lad, 
for  thee." 

Ralph  forced  a  smile,  though  he  was  in  no  smiling 
humour. 

"  A  truce  to  that  nonsense!  Fear  not!  Your  turn  will 
come.  To-day  it  is  my  quartermaster,  not  me,  who  has 
been  thy  friend.  Reuben,  my  lord  would  speak  with  you. 
You  remember  him,  Charlton,  first  in  the  master's  room 
at  Sidney,  after  at  Edge  Hill?  " 

"  That  indeed  I  do.  Give  me  thy  hand,  good  friend, 
if  thou'rt  not  too  proud,  like  the  major  yonder,  to  have 
speech  with  a  poor  gentleman.  Truth,  there  is  little  hard- 
ship in  defeat  when  the  conquerors  be  such  as  thou, 
quartermaster,  and  these  true  men  of  thine.  In  God's 
name  and  my  wife's,"  he  continued,  addressing  the  troop, 
"  I  do  most  sincerely  give  you  my  best  thanks,  and  I 
hereby  grant  ye  this  house  and  all  that's  in  it  as  a  free  gift, 
providing  that  ye  share  not  a  cask  with  the  snuffling 
rascals  ye  withstood  so  gallantly.  Furthermore,  mind 
this:  fortune  may  turn  again.  Should  any  of  you  fall  a 
prisoner  in  our  hands  and  suffer  ill-treatment,  let  him 

364 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

send  for  me,  and  the  devil's  in  it  but  I'll  see  he  gets 
full  satisfaction  and  a  quick  release." 

A  short  cheer  greeted  his  words,  and  while  the  articles 
of  capitulation  were  written  out  and  signed  the  steward 
brought  out  a  store  of  wine  and  food,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes victors  and  vanquished  were  mingling  together 
round  goblets  and  pasties,  the  best  of  friends  and  com- 
rades for  the  time  being. 

The  terms  Ralph  granted  were  safe  conduct  for  all 
who  desired  it  to  the  royal  lines,  with  their  personal 
apparel  and  belongings.  Their  arms  and  the  contents  of 
the  house  were  surrendered  to  the  Parliament.  The 
arrangements  occupied  two  hours,  and  then  the  garrison 
marched  away  northward ;  while  Ralph,  leaving  the  house 
in  charge  of  a  picked  body  of  men,  turned  his  steps  to 
camp  to  keep  his  tryst  with  Capell. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

THE  Ironsides  had  not  covered  more  than  two-thirds 
of  the  distance  to  their  quarters  before  they  were 
met  by  a  man  who  rode  at  furious  speed.  It  was  Major 
Whalley. 

"What,  in  God's  name,  hath  happened?"  he  cried, 
drawing  Ralph  aside  and  lowering  his  voice.  "  The  army 
is  in  a  ferment,  and  our  regiment  like  to  come  to  blows 
with  all  the  rest,  because  it  hath  got  abroad  that  you, 
with  your  troop  at  your  back,  hast  taken  side  with  the 
malignants,  nigh  killed  Capell,  and  threatened  to  shoot 
down  his  men.  I'd  ask  your  pardon,"  the  honest  fellow 
said,  "  for  repeating  what  must  be  a  lie  had  I  not  met 
Capell  himself  just  after  he  had  been  to  my  Lord  Wil- 
loughby.    But  my  lord " 

"  What  said  Capell?"  Ralph  rejoined  grimly. 

"  Little  enough.  Truth  to  tell,  the  man  looked  as 
though  he  had  been  ghost-ridden.  I  have  never  seen  him 
so  concerned.  He  begged  I'd  bear  a  message  to  you. 
'Twas  this :  '  Tell  Dangerfield  to  bethink  him 
of  the  best  defence  he  may.  His  life  will  rest  upon  it.' 
Thus  Capell,  and  beshrew  me,  Ralph,  I  judge  the  man  to 
be  in  earnest,  and  wishing  ye  well  out  of  the  coil.  He 
looked  like  a  boy  that,  hurling  a  stone  at  a  companion  in 
a  pet,  hath  struck  him  in  a  vital  part.  I'll  swear  he  means 
you  no  ill  now." 

Ralph  laughed  savagely. 

Thinkst  so?  He's  a  devil,  Whalley,  a  hypocrite  of 
hypocrites!  But  what  odds?  Let  him  do  his  worst,  I'm 
in  the  right.  Here,  then,  is  the  story  of  it,  and  a  plain 
and  true  one." 

366 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  described  all  that  had  had  happened,  to  which 
Whalley  listened  with  strained  attention.  At  the  end  he 
swore  in  a  way  no  Puritan  officer  had  any  business  to 
swear.     Ralph  felt  hurt  and  angry. 

"'Sdeath!  would  ye  rather,  then,  that  I  should  have 
allowed  those  coistrils  to  set  teeth  into  the  helpless 
churls,  even  as  wolves  turned  loose  in  a  fold?  Should 
I  break  my  word  and  see  murder  done,  and  worse, 
because  the  butcher  who  ordered  it  was  one  step  above 
me  in  rank?    I'll  swear  Cromwell  will  uphold  me." 

"  Oh,  curse  ye  for  a  hot-brained  fool!  "  cried  Whalley. 
"  I  blame  ye?  Man,  I  was  swearing  because  I  was  not 
there.  As  for  Cromwell,  were  he  with  us  who  would 
care?    But  he  is  away  in  London." 

Ralph's  face  fell,  and  he  began  to  feel  anxious. 

"That  is  a  blow  indeed.  His  departure  be  very 
sudden." 

Whalley  laughed  significantly. 

"  'Tis  a  call  from  Parliament.  It  is  whispered  that  my 
Lord  Willoughby's  doings  with  the  women  of  Lincoln 
and  elsewhere  have  got  wind,  and  that  Cromwell  is  to 
make  a  statement  in  the  house  upon  it.  Woe  unto  my 
lord  if  this  be  so,  but  the  worse  for  thee  now.  Indeed, 
I  gather  from  Capell's  looks  that  an  example  will  be 
made  of  ye  if  it  can  be  done.    What  defence  have  you?  " 

"  That,  whereas  the  garrison  disarmed  without  a  blow, 
to  slaughter  them  in  cold  blood  would  have  been  the  act 
of  a  beast." 

Whalley  grunted  doubtfully. 

"  I  see,  I  see.    But  were  the  majority  not  Papists?  " 

"What  matters  that?" 

The  major  laughed. 

"  Ask  the  Presbyterians ;  ask  Crawford,  the  Scotch 
general  of  whom  they  say  Willoughby  is  af eared;  ask 
our  chaplain.  Ralph,  'tis  a  bad  business.  Harkee!  Do 
thy  best  to  get  the  clock  put  back,  and  judgment  sus- 
pended   until    Cromwell    is    here     to    plead    thy    cause. 

367 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Believe  me,  thou'lt  have  no  other  friend.  Nay,  com- 
rade, I  will  tell  thee  the  truth.  I  fear  the  worst,  the 
very  worst.  But  here  be  the  provost-marshal.  Now, 
will  he  arrest  thee  only,  or  has  he  a  warrant  for  the 
troop?" 

He  arrested  Ralph  alone.  The  men  were  held  blame- 
less, as  Capell  was  not  their  regimental  officer. 

The  trial  was  held  on  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day, 
January  22nd.  It  was  conducted  with  due  dignity  and 
decorum,  and  Major-General  Crawford,  the  president  of 
the  court-martial,  was  courtesy  itself.  Yet  from  the  first 
Ralph  felt  that  the  day  was  going  against  him,  and  he 
marvelled  at  the  self  control  of  Capell,  whose  evidence 
was  treated  with  marked  respect  by  the  judges,  and  who 
seemed  to  lose  spirit  rather  than  gain  it  as  the  trial 
proceeded. 

The  ceremony  lasted  an  hour,  and  for  half  an  hour 
longer  the  court  discussed  the  matter  within  closed  doors. 
Then  Ralph  was  recalled,  and  General  Crawford  rose. 
He  was  a  little  man,  but  powerfully  made,  with  red  hair, 
harsh  features,  and  prominent  blue  eyes. 

"  Captain  Dangerlield,  thy  case  hath  received  full  and 
weighty  consideration,  and  the  judgment  of  the  court 
upon  it  be  unanimous.  They  recognise  that  thou  hast 
done  good  service  to  the  cause  in  the  past,  but  find  that 
thou  art  guilty  of  the  ofifences  laid  to  thy  charge,  and 
these  ofifences  be  so  grave  when  committed  by  an  officer 
in  thy  position,  that  there  be  but  one  punishment  which 
can  justly  meet  them  —  death." 

He  paused  an  instant,  as  if  expecting  a  protest  or 
exclamation,  but  the  prisoner's  mouth  only  curled 
slightly,  and  he  held  his  head  a  trifle  higher  than  before, 
and  looked  hard  at  Capell. 

"  Death,"  the  General  repeated  with  solemn  emphasis. 
"  Thou  disobeyed  the  orders  of  thy  commanding  officer, 
urged  thy  men  to  resist  him  by  force,  and  when  he 
would  have  reasoned  with  them  thou  assaulted  him  with 

368 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

thy  weapon.  It  hath  been  under  consideration  of  this 
court  whether  signal  punishment  be  not  given  to  thy 
troop  as  well.  But  the  court  is  inclined  to  mercy,  and 
only  maketh  the  order  that  thy  sentence  shall  be  executed 
by  a  file  of  these  men,  and  witnessed  by  the  rest.  Hast 
anything  to  say?  " 

He  smiled  now  for  the  first  time,  the  smooth  dog 
smile  that  Ralph  remembered  of  old. 

"  Naught,  General,"  he  replied,  struggling  hard  with  a 
desire  to  break  out  into  bitter  reproach  and  defiance, 
"  naught  but  this.  Is  it  your  intention  to  kill  me  before 
Colonel  Cromwell  returneth  to  the  army?  If  so,  I  would 
pray  that  the  execution  be  deferred,  so  that  I  might  see 
him  once  again.  He  is  my  friend,  gentlemen,"  appealing 
to  the  rest;  "I  had  almost  said  my  father;  I  have  none 
other." 

An  uneasy  expression  crossed  Crawford's  face  for  a 
moment.  Then  looking  straight  before  him,  speaking 
rapidly  and  decidedly,  he  answered: — 

"  Nay,  Captain  Dangerfield,  that  may  not  be.  Colonel 
Cromwell  hath  chosen  to  leave  his  post  in  the  face  of 
the  enemy  to  attend  some  private  m.atter  in  London.  He 
may  be  gone  some  days.  Meantime  justice  awaiteth  her 
dues.  I  regret  his  absence,  as  he  be,  you  say,  your  friend. 
But  be  assured  of  this:  had  the  man  all  the  will  to  serve 
you  which,  some  say,  he  hath  to  serve  himself,  his  pres- 
ence would  not  avail  you  anything.  Thou'rt  guilty,  cap- 
tain, and  at  rise  of  sun  to-morrow  must  pay  the  penalty. 
Provost-marshal,  remove  the  prisoner." 

Ralph  was  then  led  away  out  of  the  close  atmosphere 
of  the  court-house  into  the  crisp,  frosty  air  of  a  winter 
afternoon.  He  felt  like  a  man  in  a  dream,  a  nightmare 
he  might  awaken  from  at  any  moment.  He  could  not 
realise  that  he  was  doomed,  as  surely  as  any  common 
felon  with  a  halter  round  his  neck,  but  only  that  some- 
thing had  happened  which  had  set  his  brain  a-buzzing, 
and  snapped  a  spring  in  it  that  was  vibrating  helplessly. 
24  369 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

As  he  walked  from  the  court-house,  he  was  conscious 
that  there  were  a  group  of  soldiers  looking  and  pointing 
at  him,  talking  loudly  and  laughing,  and  that  further 
away  was  a  body  of  men  with  familiar  faces,  men  who 
muttered  to  one  another  in  low  and  bitter  tones.  Then 
he  was  in  the  guard-house  alone,  the  door  behind  him 
closing  with  a  clang. 

Sentenced  to  death!  He  realised  it  now.  To  be  shot 
in  cold  blood  —  why?  Because  again  he  had  been 
trapped,  and  this  time  most  successfully.  Capell  had 
chosen  him  to  share  in  this  enterprise  because  Charlton 
was  governor;  had  refused  quarter  because  he  foresaw 
that  such  orders  would  be  disregarded;  and,  finally,  had 
struck  down  the  trooper's  weapon  to  bring  upon  himself 
the  assault  which  he  knew  well  would  provide  the  court- 
martial  with  full  and  adequate  grounds  for  sentence  of 
death. 

"Why,  why  did  I  not  kill  him  long  since?"  Ralph 
muttered  feverishly.  "  Why  had  I  not  the  wit  to  see  that 
he  should  be  treated  as  one  treats  other  vermin?  If 
Cromwell  —  but  there  is  the  crowning  piece  of  devil's 
cunning.  He  knew,  no  doubt,  that  Cromwell  was  like 
to  be  called  away.  Oh,  he  has  made  sure  of  his  prey 
this  time." 

A  step  outside  the  door,  and  the  grating  of  the  bolts, 
and  Capell  himself  came  in.  Ralph  drew  a  deep  breath, 
and  his  eyes  gleamed. 

"This  is  truly  kind,"  he  said,  breathless  with  the  pas- 
sion that  was  within  him.  "  What  service  can  I  do  thee 
now?" 

Capell  looked  sharply  into  his  face,  then  unbuckled 
his  sword  and  laid  it  upon  the  table. 

"  I  have  come,"  he  said  in  a  monotonous  tone, 
"  because  mine  own  company  was  burdensome,  and  I 
felt  it  would  be  an  easement  to  my  spirits  were  I  to  talk 
awhile  with  thee.  Dangerfield  " —  he  had  thrown  him- 
self into  a  chair,  and  now,  leaning  one  elbow  on  the 

370 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

table,  stared  hard  and  fixedly  at  Ralph  — "  thou  thinkest 
I  have  plotted  for  thy  death,  as  a  sleuth-hound  followeth 
a  blood-trail.  Nay,  speak  not;  I  read  it  in  thy  face. 
Thou  thinkest  this  damned  tribunal  hath  condemned 
thee  unto  death  by  my  desire.     Well,  thou  art  a  fool." 

Ralph's  lips  were  white  now  with  the  force  he  put 
upon  himself  to  put  his  passion  down.  But  he  trampled 
on  it  still,  as  a  tired  swimmer  keeps  his  head,  by  des- 
perate efforts,  above  the  waves. 

"  Capell,"  he  said  hoarsely,  "  dost  think  that  I  would 
believe  the  words  of  so  damned  a  villain  as  thyself? 
Thou  art  the  fool  to  tempt  me." 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  sword,  swiftly  drew  it,  and 
felt  its  edge  and  point.  Capell  smiled  sardonically,  with- 
out stirring  an  inch. 

"  Lieth  the  wind  that  way?  I  might  have  known  it. 
Nay,  man,"  with  a  contemptuous  motion  of  his  hand, 
"  wait  then,  and  watch  events ;  it  will  not  profit  ye  yet 
to  shed  my  blood.     Wait,  I  say,  wait." 

He  spoke  with  more  impatience  than  anger,  but  his 
eyes  grew  watchful,  and  his  hand  tightened  upon  the  hilt 
of  a  dagger  as  Ralph,  without  answering,  turned  back 
the  sleeve  of  his  right  arm. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said  at  last,  "  why  hast  played  the 
hypocrite?     That  first." 

"Hypocrite!     When  was  I  a  hypocrite  to  thee?" 

"  At  my  bedside  in  Ely,  when  you  took  my  hand. 
Pah!  the  slime  upon  thy  fingers  clings  to  me  yet." 

Capell  sighed. 

"  I  was  no  hypocrite.  I  loved  —  nay,  not  loved  — 
liked  ye." 

"  Why?  " 

"  Because  I  thought  that  thou  wouldst  die,"  was  the 
cool  reply,  "  and  thought,  being  then  a  fool,  that  thy 
thin  face  and  feeble  body  would  never  stand  in  my  way 
again,  so  I  wished  you  well,  and  asked  your  forgiveness. 
'Twas  honestly  meant;  indeed  it  was." 

371 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Ralph  dropped  the  point  of  his  sword  to  the  ground 
and  leant  upon  it. 

"  Stand  in  thy  way!     What  mean  you  by  that?" 

"You  do  not  know?"  Capell  smiled,  more  bitterly 
than  before.  "  Then  my  face  hath  kept  its  secret  well, 
it  seems,  since  I  betrayed  myself  to  Salingford.  I  loved 
the  maiden,  friend,  whom  you  love;  I  love  her  yet.  You 
were  in  my  path,  and  now  I  sometimes  ask  God  wonder- 
ingly  why  I  let  ye  live;  but  it  was  so.  I  withheld  my 
hand  from  grasping  that  old  Papist  doctor  and  left  him 
to  cure  ye.  It  was  for  her  sake,  for  she  had  supplicated 
me.  Truly,  the  love  of  woman  driveth  the  wits  out  of 
a  man.     Aye,  I  let  you  live." 

"  Only  to  kill  me  now,  even  as  a  cat  playeth  with  a 
mouse." 

"  So  it  seemeth  to  you,"  Capell  rejoined  in  the  same 
cold  tone  in  which  he  began,  "  and,  indeed,  when  I 
heard  of  your  recovery,  Satan  entered  into  my  soul  and 
gained  such  power  with  me,  that  of  a  surety  I  had  not 
spared  ye.  But  when  this  opportunity  was  given  to  me, 
though  I  refused  to  let  it  go,  I  had  no  intention  of  push- 
ing it  further  than  to  humble  your  pride  and  gain  an 
advantage  over  Cromwell.  I  did  not  think  that  even 
your  hot  blood  would  drive  you  to  such  resistance,  and 
afterwards  I  knew  not  till  I  delivered  my  report  to  Wil- 
loughby  that  Cromwell  was  away,  nor  was  I  prepared 
for  such  a  bitterness  and  hostility  as  the  court  showed 
toward  you.  God  knoweth  this,  and  before  the  night 
is  gone  you  will  know  it  too." 

Ralph  stood  and  looked  at  him  in  deep  perplexity. 
After  all,  was  the  man  a  hypocrite?  Or  if  he  were, 
what  did  he  expect  to  gain  by  it?  What  did  he  mean? 
The  time  was  now  late;  it  was  just  upon  midnight.  A 
lamp,  which  Ralph's  gaoler  had  placed  upon  the  table, 
was  burning  low;  the  fire  was  a  mass  of  red  embers, 
dwindling  fast. 

"  How  shall  I  know  it?    Tell  me  that." 

372 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Capell  answered  with  a  shake  of  the  head. 

"  I  will  not  waste  my  breath.  How  can  a  hypocrite 
teil  the  truth?  Nay,  I  will  not,  but,  if  I  be  not  mistaken 
—  hark!  was  not  that  a  challenge  from  the  guard?  I 
must  see  to  this." 

There  was  a  murmur  of  voices  outside  the  door,  and 
Capell,  rushing  past  Ralph,  taking  no  kind  of  notice  of 
his  bared  sword,  went  out.  A  minute  after  he  returned 
and  threw  the  door  open  with  a  salute. 

"  Colonel,"  he  said  to  someone  following  him, 
"  you  are  an  hour  and  more  before  the  time  I  had 
expected  ye,  but  you're  not  too  soon,  methinks." 

Then  he  stepped  back  and  shut  the  door  behind  him, 
and  Ralph  sprang  forward  with  a  cry. 

It  was  Cromwell. 


CHAPTER  XL 

GOD  ALMIGHTY,  sir!  how  came  you  here?" 
Ralph  cried,  astonishment  overpowering  every 
other  feeHng  for  the  moment.  Then,  noticing  that 
Cromwell  was  plastered  with  mud  from  head  to  foot, 
and  his  face  haggard  and  his  limbs  trembling  with 
weariness,  he  added  impulsively,  "  You  are  tired  out. 
Prithee  lie  on  my  bed,  and  let  me  send  for  refreshment." 

But  Cromwell  only  gave  an  impatient  grunt. 

"Tush!  a  trifle.  I  had  a  fall  i'  the  slush,  my  horse 
not  being  up  to  my  weight.  They  are  bringing  food.  I 
heard  Capell  give  orders.  Now  thyself,  Ralph.  This 
is  a  desperate  affair  truly;  how  ran  you  into  it?  Tell 
me  from  the  beginning." 

He  threw  aside  his  cloak,  sword,  and  hat,  and  as 
Ralph  began  his  narrative  leisurely  drew  off  his  boots 
and  warmed  his  feet  at  the  fire.  He  made  no  comments, 
only  asking  sharp  questions  now  and  then.  When  the 
story  was  told  he  said :  — 

"  Thou  misjudgest  this  man.  I  have  done  likewise. 
He  aimed  not  at  your  life;  you've  others  to  thank  for 
that.  When  Capell  saw  their  intention  he  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  me;  that  I  am  here  at  all  we  owe  to  him.  See 
that  you  acknowledge  this;  the  times  are  too  critical  for 
honest  men  to  be  at  variance." 

The  door  opened  now,  and  a  trooper  came  in  bearing 
a  huge  pasty  and  a  stone  bottle  of  spiced  ale,  Capell 
following. 

"  By  my  faith,  thou  art  a  good  provider,  major," 
Cromwell  exclaimed,  smiling.  "  I  will  now  attend  dili- 
gently to  the  business.    Ralph,  see  to  thine." 

374 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  settled  himself  down  to  the  pasty  with  a  sigh  of 
satisfaction,  and  Ralph  held  out  his  hand  to  Capell. 

"  I  ask  thy  forgiveness,"  he  began,  when  the  other 
stopped  him. 

"  A  truce  to  all  such  words.  They  be  out  of  place. 
I  have,  I  trust,  foiled  those  who'd  undo  thee  in  cold 
blood  to  serve  their  selfish  ends.  But  I  love  thee  not, 
nor  thou  me." 

Soon  after  this  he  left  the  room. 

Cromwell  then  asked  more  questions,  but  said  no 
word  of  praise  or  blame.  Yet  Ralph  knew  that  all  was 
right  between  them.  The  tired  eyes  flashed  when  the 
colonel  heard  how  his  troop  behaved,  and  a  smile  crossed 
his  face  at  old  Reuben's  words.  But  when  Ralph  gave 
an  account  of  the  court-martial  Cromwell's  face  became 
unreadable.  He  made  no  remark,  except  to  desire 
Ralph  to  repeat  his  statement  over  again. 

Then  for  a  long  time  he  sat  before  the  fire  deep  in 
thought,  only  rousing  at  last  to  say  he  should  sleep 
there,  and  asking  Ralph  to  lend  him  a  blanket.  Ralph 
made  him  lie  upon  his  bed,  and,  tired  out  himself,  slept 
soundly.  He  awoke  at  dawn,  and  found  that  he  was 
alone.  Food  was  brought  him,  and  then  he  ate  and 
tramped  up  and  down  the  room  waiting  for  news.  The 
sun  rose,  and  he  heard  the  sound  of  marching  feet  out- 
side, the  clink  of  bridles  and  trampling  of  horses'  hoofs, 
but  no  one  disturbed  him,  and  he  was  still  a  prisoner. 

Meanwhile  Cromwell  soon  after  dawn  held  a  short 
conference  with  Lord  Willoughby,  and  a  meeting  of  the 
court-martial  was  convened  for  nine  o'clock.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  court  came  with  surprise  written  in  their  faces 
in  a  very  angry  mood. 

The  tribunal  was  held  in  Lord  Willoughby's  quarters 
in  a  large  disused  room,  formerly  a  banqueting  hall,  a 
gloomy  apartment,  panelled  with  black  oak,  with  heavy, 
cumbrous  oak  furniture,  the  walls  covered  with  old 
tapestry,  now  moth-eaten  and  rotting  away.     The  of^- 

375 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

cers  sat  at  a  long  table,  the  president  at  the  head.  When 
they  had  all  assembled,  the  commander-in-chief  entered, 
Cromwell  with  him.  The  doors  were  then  closed,  and 
Lord  Willoughby  rose  to  speak.  He  was  very  pale,  it 
was  remarked,  and  his  eyes,  shifty  at  the  best  of  times, 
were  more  restless  than  usual,  like  those  of  a  fox  which 
has  heard  the  hounds  thrown  olT;  but  he  bore  himself 
with  a  determined  and  dignified  air. 

"  I  have  called  you  into  conference,  gentlemen,  to 
prove  unto  the  Colonel  Cromwell,  who  hath  so  sud- 
denly disposed  of  his  business  in  London  and  come 
among  us  in  the  night,  that  the  decision  of  yesterday 
touching  the  captain  of  his  first  troop  was  not,  as  he 
seems  persuaded,  an  ill-considered  and  vindictive  action 
of  mine  own,  but  a  true  rendering  of  your  united  judg- 
ment, after  hearing  of  evidence,  a  decision  absolutely 
in  consonance  with  the  usage  among  all  military  tri- 
bunals, both  here  and  abroad,  for  the  proper  main- 
tenance of  discipline  and  order.  Gentlemen,  if  I  have 
by  a  word  misrepresented  you,  I  beg  ye  to  signify  it 
to  Colonel  Cromwell." 

He  resumed  his  seat,  and  there  was  a  long  silence. 
Then  he  rose  again,  a  slight  smile  lurking  about  his  lips. 
"There  be  your  answer,  colonel.  Do  you  wish  to 
address  the  court?" 

Cromwell  bowed,  but  he  seemed  in  no  hurry  to  speak, 
and  before  he  did  so  General  Crawford,  the  President, 
who  had  been  impatiently  drumming  his  fingers  on  the 
table  and  fidgetting  in  his  chair,  sprang  up  with  a  sharp 
cough,  like  an  engine  letting  of¥  steam,  his  eyes  gleam- 
ing like  an  angry  wolf's. 

"  My  lord,  I  speak  in  deference,"  he  cried  in  a  high- 
pitched  acrid  voice,  "  but  I  would  know  why  it  is  that 
our  authority  is  set  at  naught,  and  ourselves  become  the 
contempt  of  the  whole  army.  Yesterday  we  passed 
sentence  upon  an  evil-doer,  a  friend  of  malignants  and 
Papists,  a  scoffer  at  all  true  religion,  a  mutineer,  who 

376 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

hath  taken  np  arms  against  the  godly,  indeed  a  most 
damnable  sectary,  one  whom  the  devil  hath  made  his 
own  long  since.  This  man,  I  say,  we  condemned,  and 
when  the  sun  rose  to-day  I  expected  to  hear  his  death- 
knell.  In  place  of  this  he  lives,  and  we  are  met  here,  at 
the  will  of  this  Colonel  Cromwell,  to  consider  whether 
we  have  acted  aright.  It  is  monstrous,  my  lord,  beyond 
all  reason  and  excuse.  Colonel  Cromwell  is  to  address 
the  court;  let  him  have  a  care  what  he  says.  The  nation 
I  represent  givcth  its  support  unto  you  Parliament  that 
England  may  repent  her  sins,  and  become  godly.  Were 
so  scandalous  an  incident  as  this  to  become  public  in 
Scotland,  I'd  tremble  for  the  consequences.  I  warn 
Colonel  Cromwell  to  beware  of  his  loose  sympathies, 
lest  he  also  fall  into  the  pit." 

He  fell  back  into  his  chair  with  another  snort,  and 
now  Cromwell  rose  in  good  earnest. 

"  My  lords  and  gentlemen,"  he  said  in  a  tone  low, 
quiet,  and  controlled,  in  startling  contrast  to  Crawford's. 

"  I  have  much  diffidence  in  addressing  you,  so  strong 
be  my  humble  sense  of  the  respect  due  unto  this  honour- 
able court,  that  were  it  not  a  matter  of  deepest  and  most 
vital  moment  to  myself,  yourselves,  and  the  army,  I 
had  not  dared  to  thrust  myself  between  your  judgments. 
Nay,  I  had  upheld  them,  though  they  cut  off  my  near- 
est and  my  dearest.  That  I  do  adventure  a  protest  against 
the  sentence  passed  upon  my  captain  must  go  for  an 
evidence  to  the  worthy  general  and  to  others  who  have 
known  me  longer  than  he  that  I  consider  this  matter 
to  be  of  an  importance  which  transcendeth  all  bounds 
of  military  usage.  I  do  think  this,  indeed  I  do,  and, 
with  all  the  strength  that  is  in  me,  I  must  tell  ye  so. 
What  are  ye  doing?  "  his  tone  suddenly  changing  and 
filling  the  hall  with  its  harsh  vibration.  "  What  are  you 
doing?  I  know  your  answer,  putting  one  to  death  for 
open  mutiny.  Well,  mutiny  be  a  crime,  but  when  ye 
say  mutiny,  I  would  ask  against  what?  —  just  authority 

377 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

or  petty  tyranny?  God  or  the  devil?  For  the  one  a 
man  should  die;  for  the  other  he  deserveth  the  encour- 
agement of  all  good  men.  The  man  Charles  Stuart 
calls  ye  mutineers,  and  worse.  Be  he  right?  As  to 
the  matter  of  my  captain,  I  have  closely  questioned 
Major  Capell,  and  he  telleth  me  that  he  informed  this 
honourable  court,  in  clearest  terms,  that  he  held  his 
subordinate  guilty  of  no  crime,  but  only  of  assuming 
in  a  manner  which  he  thought  deserved  your  censure, 
authority  that  by  right  belonged  not  to  him.  Is  Capell 
a  perjurer,  or  a  false  witness?  Dare  even  General 
Crawford  make  that  accusation?  The  issue,  an  I  be 
not  much  mistaken,  rests  there.  If  you  doubt  me,  call 
the  major  now  before  your  honourable  presence  and 
question  him  yourselves." 

Lord  Willoughby  smiled  sardonically. 

"  You  hear  the  colonel,  sirs.  In  what  manner  will 
you  answer  him?" 

"  Why,  thus,  my  lord,"  cried  Crawford,  "  that  we  took 
evidence  yesterday;  we  came  to  a  judgment  on  it,  and 
we  reverse  not  our  opinions  at  the  bidding  of  any  man. 
Let  this  Socinian  be  executed  forthwith  as  he  deserves." 

Willoughby  smiled  again,  but  Cromwell  interposed. 

"  A  vote  by  hands,  an't  you  please  the  president." 

Crawford  protested  angrily,  but,  in  response  to  a 
request  from  Lord  Willoughby,  consented  to  allow  it. 
All  voted  for  the  prisoner's  execution.  It  only  remained 
for  the  commander-in-chief  to  confirm  the  sentence. 

Lord  Willoughby  bowed  sweetly  to  Cromwell. 

"I  cannot  hesitate.  By  heaven,  no;  the  sentence  is 
confirmed.     This  man  must  die." 

There  was  a  crash  of  a  falling  chair,  and  Cromwell, 
springing  to  his  feet,  struck  the  table  a  blow  with  his 
fist  that  made  it  shake  again.  His  face  was  a  deep  red 
from  neck  to  brow,  his  eyes  aflame  with  passion. 

"  No ;  I  say,  no,"  he  exclaimed,  turning  upon  Wil- 
loughby with  the  glare  of  a  lion  at  bay.     "  Thou  hast 

378 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

no  authority  to  sentence  this  man,  nor  any  other,  were 
he  the  meanest  soldier  in  the  army.  That  be  the  privi- 
lege of  the  commander-in-chief,  and  thou,  Lord  Wil- 
loughby  of  Parham,  art  not,  and  never  v^dlt  be  more, 
commander  of  this  army,  for  which  many  thanks  be 
given  unto  God,  and  the  Parliament  that  yesterday 
ordered  thy  dismissal." 

A  chorus  of  exclamations  greeted  this  astonishing 
statement.  The  officers  leapt  to  their  feet.  Crawford 
drew  his  sword. 

"Thou  liar!"  he  yelled;  "'tis  naught  but  a  vile  con- 
spiracy of  sectaries,  and  thou  the  head  of  it.  My  lord, 
order  his  arrest." 

But  in  the  midst  of  the  clamour  Willoughby  himself 
stood  still  and  quiet.  He  was  white  with  fury,  but, 
with  a  dignity  that  did  honour  to  his  name  and  rank, 
he  waved  them  all  aside  and  raised  his  hand  for  silence. 

"Peace,  friends,  peace!  I  thank  thee,  Crawford,  but 
thou  must  sheathe  thy  blade.  So  now  let  me  speak. 
Colonel  Cromwell,  for  this  insult  thou  shalt  answer  to 
me  as  a  man.  For  the  present  I  take  no  notice  of  thy 
words.  But  understand  this:  were  thy  news  as  true  as 
I  believe  it  to  be  false,  it  would  make  no  difference  to 
this  business.  If  Parliament,  through  lending  a  willing 
ear  to  my  enemies,  chooseth  to  appoint  another  to  com- 
mand the  army,  I  am  still  commander-in-chief  until  that 
successor  arrive  bearing  his  authority  in  writing.  And 
as  such  I  have  full  power  to  confirm  the  finding  of  this 
honourable  court.  I  swear  by  the  God  who  made  me 
that  the  sentence  shall  be  carried  out;  aye,  and  within 
the  hour." 

He  left  his  chair,  and  with  a  slow  and  steady  step 
strode  down  the  room,  and  would  have  passed  out 
haughtily  when  Cromwell  laid  a  hand  upon  his  arm  and 
pointed  through  the  window. 

"  Wait,  my  lord,"  he  said  grimly.  "  He  that  giveth 
such  a  sentence  had  better  execute  it.     Look  and  see 

379 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  task  which  Heth  before  those,  be  they  Scotch  or 
English,  who  would  take  my  captain's  life." 

Lord  Willoughby  glanced  up  carelessly,  started,  and 
stood  still.     His  officers  seeing  this,  crowded  round  him. 

A  hundred  yards  away  stood  the  guard-house,  which, 
when  the  members  of  the  court-martial  had  passed  it  an 
hour  ago,  had  been  guarded  by  two  musketeers.  Now 
the  pale  winter  sun,  shining  through  a  frosty  haze, 
glanced  upon  helmets  and  breastplates,  glittered  on  the 
blades  of  swords.  A  regiment  was  there,  a  perfectly 
appointed  regiment  of  twelve  full  troops,  seven  hundred 
strong.  Stirrup  to  stirrup,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  they 
stood,  motionless,  as  if  cast  in  bronze,  yet  every  face 
alive  with  sternest  resolution,  every  eye  turned  toward 
the  court-house  with  grim  inquiry,  waiting,  waiting. 

"Who  and  what  be  those?"  someone  exclaimed. 

"  'Tis  a  body  of  horse,"  Cromwell  said  in  a  quiet  tone. 
"  They  be  violent  and  froward  fellows.  Every  man,  I 
have  been  told,  will  sell  his  life  full  dear  for  the  com- 
rade that  lieth  within.  My  lord,  I  know  the  men.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  they  will  spare  none  if  they  be  roused. 
At  present  they  wait,  as  I  do,  to  know  the  ruling  of  this 
honourable  court." 

A  deep  silence  followed  these  words.  Even  Crawford 
did  not  speak.  All  looked  at  Willoughby.  For  some 
moments  he  stood  still  as  marble  gazing  at  the  lines  of 
men  as  if  he  were  counting  them ;  then  he  shivered. 

"  I  countermand  the  sentence,"  he  said  hoarsely;  "the 
afifair  be  not  worth  bloodshed.  Captain  Dangerfield 
goes  free." 


CHAPTER  XLI 

THERE  was  mourning  in  the  house  at  Ely.  Isaac 
Hepworth,  setting  out  upon  a  visit  to  Rachel  the 
day  the  court-martial  sentenced  Ralph,  told  the  Crom- 
well household  in  all  good  faith  that  their  friend  was 
dead,  for  Hepworth  arrived  at  Ely  two  hours  after  the 
execution  was  to  have  taken  place.  The  minister  per- 
formed his  task  with  a  tact  and  judgment  few  who 
knew  him  would  have  expected.  Madam  Cromwell  and 
Oliver  were  the  only  two  to  whom  he  told  everything. 
The  rest  knew  no  more  than  that  the  unfortunate  young 
man  had  met  his  death  through  an  act  of  mistaken 
clemency  to  malignants,  with  which  military  law  dealt 
severely.  Hepworth,  however,  might  have  spared  himself 
the  trouble.  Ralph,  to  those  who  loved  him,  could  do  no 
wrong.  Little  Betty  sobbed  bitterly,  and  could  not  be 
comforted  all  day.  Madam  Cromwell,  after  making  so 
sharp  an  attack  on  every  officer  in  the  army  who  might 
have  had  a  hand  in  the  matter  that  Hepworth  was  glad  to 
escape  from  her  presence,  gave  way  to  a  grief  she  had  not 
felt  since  her  husband's  death.    While  Rachel  — 

She  listened  to  all  that  her  uncle  had  to  say  with  a 
face  as  cold  and  white  as  the  snow  which  was  beating 
softly  against  the  window-pane.  She  assented  mechani- 
cally to  his  kindly  meant  expressions  of  regret  at  the 
loss  of  a  brave  life,  and,  then  escaping,  went  straight 
to  her  room,  and  was  not  seen  again  that  day. 

Oliver  was  out  when  the  minister  arrived;  he  was 
taking  riding  exercise  daily  to  get  back  the  strength  of 
the  broken  limb,  which  took  long  to  heal.  Mightily 
astonished  and  dismayed  was  he  at  the  news,  and  in  his 

381 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

excitement  expressed  himself  without  restraint  concern- 
ing the  "  cursed  bigots  who  would  ruin  the  cause  by 
taking  harsh  measures  with  their  gallantest  officers." 
In  old  days  Hepworth  would  have  exploded  with  wrath 
at  such  language;  now  he  patiently  held  his  peace. 
Oliver's  next  anxiety  was  about  Rachel.  When  he 
heard  that  she  had  received  the  tidings  with  a  calmness 
which  had  much  impressed  her  uncle,  he  was  greatly 
relieved. 

"  I'd  feared  it  would  have  greatly  put  the  child  about. 
Poor  sweetheart,  how  she  slaved  to  save  his  life.  Sure, 
sir,  I  was  jealous;  in  very  truth  I  was.  Now  I  will 
comfort  her  in  every  way  I  can,  and  she  will,  I  trust, 
soon  have  brighter  things  to  think  about." 

It  grew  late,  and  when  no  Rachel  could  be  found,  and 
Oliver  heard  that  she  was  in  her  room  with  a  bad  head- 
ache and  that  he  would  not  see  her  till  the  morrow,  he 
began  to  get  anxious,  and  passed  a  very  bad  night. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  her  chair  was  still 
vacant. 

"  She  be  abed,"  his  mother  said  shortly,  "  and  refuseth 
food,  complaining  of  her  head,  but  declareth  that  she'll 
be  stirring  presently.     I  know  no  more." 

After  breakfast  Oliver  went  to  his  grandmother's 
room,  but  Rachel  was  not  there,  and  the  old  lady  was 
in  so  irritable  a  mood  that  he  soon  retreated.  In  despair 
he  went  to  his  father's  library  to  write  a  letter,  and 
there,  in  her  usual  place,  quietly  reading  the  correspond- 
ence which  the  messengers  had  brought  from  London, 
he  found  Rachel  at  last. 

"  My  dearest,  art  better?  "  Oliver  exclaimed,  striding 
up  to  her  with  both  hands  out. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  Rachel  dropped  the  letters 
and  came  to  meet  him,  but  when  he  would  have  kissed 
her  she  took  his  hands  and  very  gently  kept  him  at 
arm's  length. 

"  I  am  much  better,  thank  you,  dear,  and  very  glad 

382 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

we  have  met.  I  have  a  deal  I  wish  to  tell  you.  Would 
you  close  that  door,  that  none  may  overhear  us?" 

He  stood  a  moment  as  if  he  had  not  heard  her,  seized 
the  door  handle,  and  slammed  it  with  such  force  that 
the  room  shook,  then  returning,  caught  her  hands  again, 
and  held  them  in  a  grip  which  made  them  numb  and 
powerless. 

"  Rachel,  why  holdest  thou  me  off  this  way?  Thou'rt 
in  sorrow.  Thy  cheeks  are  pale,  thine  eyes  heavy  with 
weeping.  Why  may  I  not  comfort  thee?  God's  life, 
what  hath  happened?  Thou  lookest  the  picture  of 
death.     Tell  me  what  it  means." 

He  was  in  a  fever  of  excitement,  and  clasped  her 
hands  more  and  more  tightly,  till  she  could  have  cried 
out  with  the  pain.  But  she  did  not  mind;  it  was  almost 
a  relief  to  suffer  physically  after  the  mental  torture  she 
had  undergone  all  night  long.  There  seemed,  too,  a 
vague  justice  that  he  should  give  her  pain. 

"  I  will  tell,  I  must  tell,"  she  said,  her  voice  strangely 
altered,  an  intensity  and  passion  in  it  which  struck  him 
with  a  kind  of  chill.  "  Yet  how  —  how  shall  I  tell 
thee?"  with  a  catch  in  her  breath.  "Oliver,  our 
betrothal  hath  been  a  lie.  Not  with  you,  but  me.  I 
promised  to  be  your  wife  and  should  have  been,  and 
yet  all  the  time,  though  I  loved  you  —  I  did  indeed  —  I 
loved  another  more,  him  who  is  dead.  I  wronged  you 
and  Ralph,  and  now  he  is  dead  and  will  never  know  — 
never,  never!"  She  caught  her  breath  again,  but  still 
controlled  herself.  "  I  have  been  wicked,  yet  I  tried  to 
do  right.  I  did  not  know  how  much  I  loved  him.  But 
now  I  know.  Curse  me,  kill  me,  an  you  will  —  I  deserve 
it  —  but  this  is  the  truth,  and  we  can  be  betrothed  no 
longer." 

He  laughed  at  her,  a  ghastly  caricature  of  the  laugh 
of  other  days. 

"Nonsense!  I  say  thou'rt  talking  nonsense,  child," 
he  cried  hoarsely.     "  Be  silent.     It  is  that  your  brain  is 

383 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

crazed  with  grief.  The  undoing  of  thy  friend,  and  mine, 
hath  turned  thy  head.  God  Ahnighty!  must  it  come  to 
this?  But  I  say,  'tis  nonsense,  nay,  worse.  What! 
think  ye  I  will  let  thee  break  thy  troth  now,  thou,  who 
art  mine,  and  for  a  dead  man?  Nay,  were  he  an 
archangel  he  should  not  now  rob  me  of  mine  own. 
Why,  bethink  thee,  darling,"  lowermg  his  voice  to  one 
of  tender  entreaty,  ''  how  I  love  thee.  Since  we  have 
been  together  these  months  I  swear  thou  hast  become 
a  part  of  me,  '  bone  of  my  bone,  flesh  of  my  flesh,'  as  the 
book  hath  it.  In  a  sense  thou'rt  my  wife  already. 
Without  thee  as  my  loadstar  I  shall  go  to  wrack.  Dost 
fear  my  jealousy,  that  I'd  be  hurt  to  think  that  once 
thou  cared  more  for  Ralph  than  me?  Oh,  thrust  that 
from  thy  mind.  He  was  a  better  man  —  I've  always 
said  it  —  be  his  religion  what  it  might.  Had  he  lived, 
indeed  —  But  now  to  let  you  go  away  alone,  where 
there  be  no  arms  to  enfold  thee,  no  happiness,  no  answer- 
ing love,  naught  but  a  grave  and  saddening  memories  — 
nay,  I  cannot,  will  not,  give  thee  up  to  that.  Thou  hast 
promised  me.     'Slife,  sweet,  thou  shalt  keep  thy  word." 

The  old  Oliver  came  out  in  the  last  words,  and  He 
stood  before  her  now  with  his  old  masterful  smile,  his 
voice  full  of  the  old  determined  ring.  But  he  had  not 
to  deal  with  the  Rachel  of  old  days,  a  shy  young  girl, 
startled,  uncertain  of  herself;  she  was  now  a  woman, 
with  infinite  sadness  in  her  face,  and  a  determination  in 
the  steady  eyes  and  closed  lips  greater  than  his  own. 
When  she  spoke  the  words  came  slowly,  firmly,  and 
the  chill  which  had  fallen  on  his  heart  when  he  first 
entered  came  back  again. 

"  Oliver,  thou  dost  not  understand.  Alas !  how  should 
you?  How  trust  any  words  of  mine,  since  I  so  deceived 
thee?  But  thou  must,  dearest  friend  and  brother,  more 
than  brother.  I  will  lay  all  bare  unto  thee.  Thou  canst 
claim  that,  surely.  I  have  loved  him  long.  Once  he 
told  me  of  his  love,  and  I  then  refused  his  suit  because 

384 


CROAIWELL'S  OWN 

I'd  never  marry  one  who  believed  not  in  true  religion. 
This  was  a-many  months  ago.  I  thought  I  had  forgot. 
It  seemed  a  duty  to  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Then  you 
came  home  from  Hull,  and  caring  for  you  very  much, 
I  gave  consent  to  your  entreaties.  Afterwards,  when 
he  lay  wounded,  sore  doubts  came  upon  me,  but  when 
I  prayed  for  guidance,  an  answer  seemed  vouchsafed 
that  as  I  had  sown,  so  I  must  reap.  It  was  not  hard, 
dear,"  with  a  sudden  break  in  her  voice,  "  for  I  loved 
you,  too.  Then  came  yesterday,  and  all  last  night  I 
spent  upon  my  knees.  In  early  morning  peace  came 
unto  me.  A  voice  seemed  to  whisper,  '  Thy  life  belong- 
eth  to  the  man  thou  lovest,  and  to  none  else.  He  be  in 
sorest  need  of  thee.  As  on  earth  he  was  for  ever  fight- 
ing men,  so  now  he  is  beset  by  devils,  and  his  soul 
wrestleth  desperately  for  salvation.  Give  thyself  to  him; 
let  no  thoughts  turn  thy  mind  from  his  welfare.  Pray 
continually  to  God  to  show  him  mercy,  and  thou  shalt 
then  at  last  bring  him  to  peace  and  eternal  rest.'  Thus 
said  the  voice,  and  then  just  as  I  was,  kneeling  by  my 
bed,  I  fell  asleep,  nor  wakened  till  they  came  aknocking 
at  my  door.  After  this  I  could  not  longer  bear  me 
towards  you  as  I  used.     And  now  thou  knowest  all." 

She  looked  at  him  with  eyes  which  were  full  of  a  mute 
pleading,  as  of  a  culprit  who  has  confessed  a  sin,  and 
awaits  punishment  with  confidence  in  the  justice  of  the 
judge.  Oliver  tried  to  speak,  but  his  throat  was  so 
parched  that  he  choked  until  tears  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  My  darling,  thou  hast  conquered.  By  my  faith,  I 
have  not  a  word  to  say.  Blame  not  thyself.  'Struth, 
no!  It  is  I  who  am  to  blame;  I  was  blind  and  f reward, 
thinking  of  myself,  not  thee.  I  stole  thee  from  Ralph, 
thee,  to  whom  I  had  no  right.  Forgive  me,  sweet;  I 
did  not  know;  and  now  'tis  over!"  His  chest  heaved, 
and  he  shivered.  Then  he  drew  himself  up,  and  his 
mouth  became  like  his  father's  in  the  firmness  of  the 
lips.     "  'Tis    over,     I    trouble    thee    no    more,    not    an 

25  385 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

instant.  'Deed,  I  have  troubled  thee  too  long.  I  am 
rough  and  rude,  and  never  was  worthy  of  thee.  But  at 
least  I  be  a  man,  and  not  a  brute.  I  give  thee  up,  and 
may  God  grant  thee  peace,  the  peace  that  my  love  could 
not  give." 

His  voice  grew  husky,  and  was  scarcely  audible  at  the 
end.  He  turned  abruptly,  as  if  to  leave  the  room,  then 
drew  his  hands  across  his  eyes  and  wheeled  again. 

"  Nay,  I  will  not  run  away,  but  this  will  be  good-bye. 
I  join  the  army  to-night,  and  'tis  better  we  should  not 
meet  again.     Bless  thee  and  fare  thee  well !  " 

Again  he  turned  to  go,  but  Rachel  called  him  back. 

"  Let  me  have  thy  hand  once  more,  or  I  shall  think 
that  thou  never  can  forgive." 

He  ran  to  her  with  a  cry,  and  after  one  glance  at 
her  tear-stained  face  clasped  her  in  his  arms, 

"May  I  then  once  more,  for  the  last  time?  My  dar- 
ling, my  darling.  Forgive,  sayest  thou?"  He  dropped 
upon  his  knee  and  reverently  kissed  her  hand.  "  Rachel, 
thou  little  knowest  a  man.  I  loved  thee  for  thy  worth's 
sake,  not  because  I  was  beloved.  Thou  loved  another, 
yet  gave  me  months  of  purest  happiness.  Shall  I  for- 
give thee  for  that?  Now  'tis  over;  but  as  thy  heart  was 
never  mine,  how  shall  I  complain?  Forgive!  Thou'rt 
pure  as  crystal,  and  ever  while  my  life  lasts  I  will  love 
thee  in  the  far  distance,  as  if  thou  wert  a  saint  in  heaven." 

He  kissed  her  hand  once  more,  and  then  the  door 
closed  behind  him,  and  she  heard  him  whistle  merrily 
down  the  passage  and  call  to  Betty. 

"  Hey,  kitten,  where  art  thou?  Lessons?  Quit  them, 
then.  I  mean  it  i'  faith.  News  hath  come  that  sendeth 
me  to  the  north  to-night.  So  thou,  Betsy  mine,  wilt 
have  to  work  thy  fingers  to  the  bone  to  get  my  clothes 
in  readiness.  No  resistance  now  or  pouting!  I  say 
thou'lt  come  with  me,  and  what  I  say  everyone  in  this 
house  doth  do." 

386 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Not  Rachel,"  was  the  shrill  reply.  "  She  is  your 
mistress,  and  her  wishes  be  your  laws." 

His  reply  was  inaudible,  but  Rachel,  sitting  in  Crom- 
well's chair,  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  wept  bitter, 
scalding-  tears. 

It  was  perhaps  the  most  miserable  day  in  Rachel's  life. 
Oliver's  face  haunted  her,  and  she  was  tortured  with 
doubts.  He  was  so  unselfish,  and  so  honourable,  and 
his  love  was  of  purest  gold.  Had  she  a  right  to  reject 
it  now?  No  one  would  think  she  had;  all  the  world 
would  be  against  her  when  the  news  was  known.  But 
this  thought  brought  about  a  reaction.  Had  not  every- 
one been  against  Ralph?  He  had  stood  alone,  and 
braved  them  all;  was  she  not  strong  enough  to  do  like- 
wise? Nevertheless,  all  the  rest  of  the  day  Rachel  spoke 
little  to  the  other  members  of  the  family,  and  steadily 
avoided  any  visit  to  J\Iadam  Cromwell.  The  next  morn- 
mg  her  nerves  had  regained  their  tone,  and  she  went  in 
at  her  usual  time;  then  her  heart  reproached  her.  The 
old  lady's  face  wore  an  expression  of  grief  and  yearning 
and  such  sad  wonder  at  their  little  one's  neglect  that 
Rachel  broke  down,  and  kneeling  at  her  feet,  her  head 
buried  in  her  lap,  told  her  all.  Madam  Cromwell 
embraced  her  and  solemnly  blessed  her,  and  then  eased 
her  own  heart  by  confessing  all  the  love  she  bore  to 
Ralph.     It  was  noon  before  Rachel  left  her  chamber. 

Madam  Cromwell's  apartments  vvcre  upon  a  tiny  land- 
ing, half-way  up  the  staircase.  As  Rachel  opened  the 
door  she  heard  a  tread  in  the  hall  below,  accompanied 
by  the  clink  and  ring  of  an  iron-heeled  boot.  The  sound 
surprised  her,  but  before  she  could  look  over  the  banis- 
ters Madam  Cromwell  asked  some  question  which 
obliged  her  to  turn  back.  Having  answered  it,  she 
closed  the  door,  and  took  a  step  downstairs,  one  step, 
but  no  more.  A  man  was  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  look- 
ing at  her  with  eager  eyes  and  parted  lips  —  Ralph! 

Rachel  gave  a  stifled  scream.     Was  it  a  spirit?    Then 

387 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

the  stairs  creaked  and  swung  with  his  weight;  the  eyes 
she  thought  were  closed  in  death  gazed  into  hers;  strong 
and  tender  hands  supported  her  as  she  stood  dizzy  and 
faint,  cHnging  to  the  banisters, 

"Mistress  Rachel,  have  I  startled  thee  so  much?" 
He  paused  breathless.  A  swift  flush  of  colour  swept 
into  her  face,  and  her  eyes  brightened  in  so  wonderful 
a  way  that  his  heart  was  thrilled  with  a  sudden  desperate 
hope.  He  had  only  come  to  say  farewell.  The  night 
before  he  had  been  to  Cromwell,  and  said  that  he  must 
see  her  again  for  the  last  time.  He  had  no  thought  of 
claiming  a  word  or  a  look  for  himself,  but  see  her  he 
must,  and  Cromwell,  after  hesitation,  had  granted  his 
wish.  He  had  ridden  all  night,  and  stolen  in  quietly, 
mud-stained  and  weary. 

Now  his  breath  came  quickly,  yet  a  terror  was  upon 
him  —  the  fear  that  after  all  he  might  be  mistaken. 

"  Rachel,"  he  panted  hoarsely,  "  have  a  care.  I  love 
thee  so  that  I  would  not  —  oh,  God,  I  would  not  — 
wrong  our  friendship  by  a  word;  but  if  thou  smilest  so 
when  thou  art  close  to  me,  I'll  forget  all  that  hath  passed 
since  the  day  when  thou  wert  mine,  not  Oliver's." 

He  paused  again,  and  bent  over  her,  for  now  she  was 
trying  to  speak  "  I  am  not  his,"  she  whispered,  and  then, 
as  Ralph  caught  her  in  his  arms,  "  I  told  him  it  was 
past.     He  hath  gone  away." 

By  something  very  like  a  direct  intervention  of  Provi- 
dence, the  Cromwell  family  on  this  particular  morning 
were  so  much  engaged  in  other  parts  of  the  house  that, 
though  Rachel  and  Ralph  stood  together  on  the  landing 
for  a  full  half-hour,  no  one  disturbed  them,  or  indeed 
knew  of  Ralph's  existence,  for  he  had  opened  the  front 
door  himself.  At  the  end  of  that  time  Rachel  bethought 
her  of  Madam  Cromwell,  and  taking  her  lover  by  the 
hand,  led  him  to  her  room. 

"A  visitor,  grannie,"  Rachel  said,  opening  the  door 

388 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  very  little  way,  "  who  hath  brought  surprising  news. 
May  I  admit  him?  " 

She  peeped  in,  keeping  Ralph  out  of  sight,  but  at 
the  first  glimpse  of  her  happy  face  Madam  Cromwell 
sprang  up. 

"  What  hidest  thou?  Nay,  only  one  thing  could  turn 
thy  mourning  into  such  joy.  Is  it  Ralph  arisen  from 
the  dead?     Hath  he  escaped?" 

"  Reprieved,  dear  madam.    Indeed,  I  am  no  runaway." 

He  knelt  to  receive  her  blessing,  and  the  old  lady 
wept. 

"  May  the  Lord  God  Almighty  bless  thee,  dearest  son. 
Aye,  and  may  He  bring  about  in  His  good  time  thy 
happiness  and  hers.  I  do  pray  for  it,"  with  a  return  of 
her  brisk,  curt  tones ;  "  but  methinks,  young  sir,  thou 
hast  stolen  a  march  upon  them  all  by  thy  avowal.  Ah, 
I  thought  'twas  so.  Then  mark  me  well.  Though  thou 
hast  won  a  maiden's  heart,  the  world,  and  my  son  in 
the  front  of  it,  will  be  against  thee.  And  none  knoweth 
better  than  thou  what  ill-hap  cometh  to  those  vv^ho  have 
to  oppose  him.  Thou  wilt  have  to  fight  hard,  Ralph, 
if  thou  wouldst  win." 


CHAPTER  XLII 

RALPH  had  very  few  hours  to  spend  at  Ely.  He 
had  promised  Cromwell  that  he  would  be  at  his 
post  the  next  morning,  and  was  obliged  to  start  early 
in  the  afternoon  and  spend  a  second  night  in  the  saddle. 
No  one  in  the  family,  except  Madam  Cromwell,  knew 
of  what  had  happened.  After  an  anxious  conference  in 
the  old  lady's  room,  it  was  agreed  between  the  lovers 
that,  until  Cromwell  gave  his  consent,  they  should  not 
meet,  and  that  they  would  not  marry  without  his  sanc- 
tion, Ralph  being  confident  that  it  would  be  given 
sooner  or  later.  Madam  Cromwell,  however,  who  was 
an  interested  listener  to  the  discussion,  though  she 
approved  of  the  decision,  sighed  and  shook  her  head. 

"  He  cannot.  Think  him  not  stony-hearted,  Ralph, 
though  I  need  not  say  it  —  thou  knowest  him  too  well 
—  but  'tis  impossible.  I  can't  tell  thee  why.  The  only 
chance  will  be  to  wait  with  patience  and  with  constancy, 
and  ask  God  to  find  a  way." 

Twenty-four  hours  later  Ralph  was  in  Cromwell's 
quarters.  Cromwell  listened  to  the  confession  without 
the  least  surprise. 

"  I  have  seen  Oliver,"  was  all  he  said.  "  No,  thou 
canst  not;  he  is  away  with  Fairfax,  and  thy  place  be 
here.  So,  after  all,  her  heart  is  thine?  A  pity,  a  pity! 
Thou  canst  never  marry.  Never!  She  is  a  Christian, 
thou  one  who  denieth  the  God-head  of  Christ.  Thou 
must  not  even  see  her;  I  have  thy  word?  Good.  I 
trust  thee  both.  Do  thy  duty,  lad.  Pray  for  guidance, 
pray  earnestly  by  day  and  by  night,  and  may  God's  will 
be  done." 

390 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

Then  he  turned  to  military  matters,  and  Ralph  felt 
that,  for  the  present,  all  was  over ;  he  must  wait  and  pray. 

Events  were  marching  swiftly  in  the  north  of  Eng- 
land. The  day  Ralph  was  sentenced  by  the  court- 
martial,  the  Earl  of  Manchester  was  given  the  chief 
command  of  the  eastern  counties,  and  Cromwell 
appointed  a  lieutenant-general,  with  command  of  the 
horse.  At  once  the  campaign,  which,  in  Lord  Wil- 
loughby's  hands  had  begun  in  a  sluggish  and  uncertain 
manner,  became  brisk  and  effective,  and  one  after 
another  of  the  strongholds  and  towns  in  Lincolnshire 
taken  the  preceding  autumn  by  the  Marquis  of  New- 
castle were  recovered.  Meantime  the  Scottish  army 
under  Leslie,  Lord  Leven,  was  steadily  advancing  from 
the  north,  and  Fairfax  broke  out  of  LIuU  and  joined 
them.  The  Ironsides  were  hard  at  work,  and  Ralph 
soon  had  an  opportunity  to  recover  his  reputation  even 
among  the  strictest  of  the  Presbyterians,  and  in  Febru- 
ary received  promotion,  becoming  major  of  the  regi- 
ment, with  Whalley  as  colonel. 

In  May,  Cromwell,  who  had  been  campaigning  in  the 
south,  returned  to  Lincolnshire,  which  was  now  in  the 
hands  of  the  Parliament.  Leslie  reached  York,  to  which 
city  Newcastle  had  now  retired,  and  the  attention  of 
all  England  turned  northward,  the  Parliamentarians 
with  hope,  and  the  Royalists  with  keenest  anxiety.  By 
June  the  three  armies,  under  Leslie,  Manchester,  and 
Fairfax,  joined  hands  before  York,  and  the  king  sent 
an  urgent  message  to  Prince  Rupert  to  succour  New- 
castle at  all  hazards. 

Rupert  was  in  Lancashire,  carrying  all  before  him. 
He  marched  eastward  at  once,  with  20,000  men,  and 
coming  before  the  Parliament  generals  were  prepared 
to  meet  him,  slipped  past  their  armies,  and  on  the 
30th  of  June  relieved  the  city.  Again  the  fortunes  of 
the  Royalists  were  in  the  ascendant,  Newcastle  and 
Rupert  were  the  strongest  men  in  the  king's  army;  their 

2>9^ 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

troops  were  veterans;  together  they  outnumbered  the 
Pariiament,  and  the  fiery  Prince  declared  the  time  had 
come  to  take  the  Roundheads  by  the  throat  and  crush 
them  by  one  decisive  battle. 

This  was  expected  by  Manchester  and  Cromwell,  and, 
after  some  dispute  among  the  generals,  the  Parliament 
army  fell  back  a  few  miles,  and  spent  the  night  of  July 
1st  on  the  ridge  of  Marston  Moor. 

It  was  the  evening  of  that  day.  Ralph  had  been  busy 
with  Whalley  putting  the  regiment  into  the  best  trim 
possible,  for  the  rumour  had  spread  that  Rupert's  Life 
Guards,  and  the  famous  "  king's  old  horse,"  under 
Goring,  were  in  York.  These  were  the  men  who  had 
broken  the  Parliament  left  wing  at  Edge  Hill,  and  had 
never  been  beaten  since.  Every  man  among  the  Iron- 
sides prayed  fervently  upon  his  knees  that  God  would 
give  his  regiment  the  opportunity  of  meeting  these  men 
next  day.  Sv/eetlove  was  captain  of  the  first  troop  now; 
Sanctify,  lieutenant;  Micklejohn,  quartermaster.  In 
Cromwell's  regiment  promotion  went  by  merit,  and 
merit  only. 

Ralph  was  tired  and  hungry,  and  devoured  with  relish 
a  plain  supper  of  black  bread  and  water,  and  looked  for- 
ward to  an  undisturbed  sleep  to  fit  him  for  the  fatigues 
of  the  morrow.  He  was  in  sound  health  now,  and  hard 
fighting  condition.  Life  was  anxious,  and  the  future 
dark,  but  there  were  no  more  doubts  or  fears.  He  was 
beloved,  and  Rachel  would  wait,  wait  a  lifetime,  if  need 
be.  He  had  only  one  wish  now:  to  see  Oliver.  His 
heart  smote  him  at  the  thought  of  what  the  old  lad  must 
be  suffering.  Ralph  would  have  given  much,  very 
much,  to  have  had  him  at  his  side  in  the  fight  that  was 
coming.  Bitterness  between  them  was  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, yet  they  never  met.  And  now,  perhaps,  they  would 
never  meet.  Ralph  thought  of  this  as  he  ate  his  supper, 
and  was  thinking  of  it  when  he  heard  the  ring  of  hoofs, 


392 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

a  sentry's  challenge,  and  then  a  man  came  in  and  greeted 
him:  Capell. 

Capell  was  panting  and  exhausted,  his  face  streaked 
with  blood,  blood  on  his  armour  and  doublet,  blood  and 
dust  on  his  boots. 

"  I've  been  sent  for  thee.  I  will  tell  my  errand  as  we 
ride.     Come  cjuickly." 

Ralph  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant.  He  asked  no 
questions,  but  ordered  a  horse  for  himself  and  a  fresh 
one  for  Capell,  made  him  drink  a  stiff  glass  of  cognac, 
and  mounted. 

"  Where  go  we  ?  " 

"  Northward  for  ten  miles,  to  a  village  they  call  Knares- 
borough.  A  man  lieth  there  at  the  point  of  death :  Oliver 
Cromwell,  the  General's  son." 

"Wounded?     How?" 

"  In  a  very  bloody  skirmish,  thrust  through  the  lung. 
He  was  able  to  ask  to  see  thee;  then  he  fell  speechless. 
If  we  find  him  alive  it  will  be  a  miracle.  But  I  swore  to 
bring  thee." 

"  Doth  his  father  know?  " 

"  A  trooper  went  for  him.    He  will  be  there  before  us." 

There  was  another  question  on  Ralph's  lips,  but  he 
did  not  ask  it.     Capell  read  it  in  his  face. 

"  You'd  know  how  I  came  to  be  the  messenger?  I 
was  sent  by  Manchester  to  seek  Fairfax,  who  hath  been 
riding  broadcast  all  the  day,  taking  observation  of  the 
enemy's  position.  I  lost  my  way  upon  the  moors,  and 
by  evil  chance  I  came  upon  a  picket  of  malignant 
dragooners,  and  should  have  lost  my  life  —  for  their 
horses  were  swifter  than  mine  own  —  when  I  fell  in 
with  young  Captain  Cromwell  and  his  troop.  All  would 
have  been  well  had  he  not  chased  the  enemy  into  an 
ambuscade,  where  two  troops  set  upon  him.  By  the 
grace  of  God,  our  troopers  beat  them  off  handsomely  in 
the  end,  but  our  loss  was  heavy,  and  the  captain  was  first 
to  fall." 

393 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  hastened  the  speed  of  his  horse,  and  Ralph  asked 
no  more  questions.  Yet  he  wondered  why  had  Capell 
ridden  so  furiously,  nearly  killed  his  horse,  and  wearied 
out  himself  for  a  man  he  scarcely  knew? 

Knaresborough  was  reached  as  it  was  growing  dark 
and  chill,  and  Capell  pointed  to  a  labourer's  hut,  before 
which  stood  a  sentry.  Another  trooper  was  holding  a 
horse,  which  Ralph  recognised  as  Cromwell's. 

"  Go  thou  in,"  Capell  said,  dismounting.  "  Wait  not 
for  me.  I  may  come  again  to  thy  quarter  to  hear,  to 
know,  if  his  mind  was  eased  before  he  died." 

Ralph  clutched  him  impulsively  by  the  shoulder. 

"  Capell,  tell  me,  why  didst  thou  come  to  me  thyself 
when  a  trooper  might  have  served?" 

But  the  major  drew  away  frowning. 

"  Ask  him ;  I  will  never  tell." 

Ralph  went  in,  and  Capell,  remounting,  rode  slowly 
back  to  the  army.  He  was  deadly  weary  and  allowed 
his  horse  to  go  at  its  own  pace.  What  a  failure  his  life 
had  been  of  late!  The  only  hope  of  Rachel's  freedom, 
since  Ralph  had  recovered  from  his  wounds,  had  been 
his  death  in  action;  now  this  hope  was  gone.  Oliver 
had  told  Capell  why  Rachel  had  broken  their  engage- 
ment, and  frankly  stated  that  his  motive  for  doing  so 
was  to  prove  that,  whether  Ralph  were  alive  or  dead,  no 
one  else  could  win  her.  Capell  had  been  touched  by 
the  words  of  the  dying  man,  and  so  became  the  bearer  of 
his  message  to  Ralph,  and  no  trooper  would  have  ridden 
at  such  speed. 

Now,  it  was  over,  and  Oliver  dead.  Dangerfield 
need  fear  no  rivalry  from  anyone. 

"Why  should  I  desire  a  woman  that  hath  been  ever 
cold  towards  me?"  Capell  said  bitterly  to  himself.  "It 
hath  been  a  most  cursed  weakness;  I  will  never  think 
of  her  again,  or  him.  'Twas  a  sort  of  fever  in  my  blood. 
It  hath  passed  and  left  no  effects  behind.  I  am  free, 
free!" 

394 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

He  filled  his  lungs  with  a  deep  breath  of  the  fresh 
moorland  air  and  rode  on.  Suddenly  his  horse  neighed, 
and  in  the  failing  light  he  saw  a  horseman  approaching 
him.  He  was  still  two  miles  from  the  army;  not  a 
human  creature  was  within  hail.  The  stranger  and  he 
were  alone. 

"  Who  goeth  there?  "  Capell  said,  drawing  his  pistol. 
There  was  no  answer,  and  he  raised  it;  then  a  harsh 
laugh  grated  on  his  ear  and  made  him  start. 

"  Put  away,  put  away,  psalm-singer.  Zounds,  have 
I  indeed  found  thee  at  last,  and  in  fair  and  open  field? 
Nay,  then,  but  my  luck  hath  not  forsaken  me.  If  my 
friends  desert,  mine  enemy  cometh  to  meet  me.  Stand, 
damned  hound!  Rememberest  me  not,  the  gentleman 
whom  thou  dared  to  lay  thy  hands  upon  after  Edge  Hill 
fight?  Hast  won  that  girl  to  wife?  If  so,  then  let  her 
say  her  prayers  and  marry  someone  else;  she'll  see  thee 
no  more.     Stand!  " 

It  was  Sir  John  Salingford;  yet  Capell  could  not  have 
recognised  him  but  for  the  voice.  His  armour  was  rusty, 
his  boots  in  holes,  his  doublet  in  tatters.  He  was  a 
mere  wreck  of  the  man  who  led  his  troop  against  Lind- 
say's Royal  Guards.  Debauchery  and  drink  had  ruined 
him,  .His  relations  had  disowned  him;  he  had  been 
drummed  out  of  his  regiment,  and  now  had  become  that 
loathsome  species  of  human  brute,  bred  by  civil  war, 
which  plunders  helpless  villagers  by  night  and  hides  all 
day  from  the  men-at-arms. 

The  men  dismounted,  secured  their  horses,  and  threw 
off  their  armour  and  heavy  boots.  A  moment  at  the 
guard,  and  then  they  closed  upon  one  another,  fighting 
desperately,  savagely  —  a  duel  to  the  death.  Blood  soon 
flowed  freely  from  both,  but  neither  gained  much  advan- 
tage, for  they  were  a  good  match.  Then  Capell's 
strength  began  to  tell,  and,  of  a  sudden,  Salingford 
tripped  backwards  and  fell,  and  the  major's  sword  was 
at  his  throat,  his  foot  upon  his  neck. 

395 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

"  Repent!  "  the  victor  gasped.  "  Call  on  Christ,  thy 
Saviour,  for  mercy;  I  will  give  thee  time  for  that." 

"  I  have  no  breath,"  was  the  answer.  "  Thou  chokest 
me. 

He  had  dropped  his  sword,  and  his  hands  were  held 
stiffly  at  his  sides.     Capell  removed  his  foot. 

"  I  give  thee  three  minutes." 

"  Nay,  one  will  do.     Devil,  I  have  outwitted  thee." 

He  leapt  from  the  ground,  and,  too  late,  Capell  saw 
that  he  had  secreted  a  dagger  up  his  sleeve.  Again  they 
closed  and  fell  together  upon  the  ground,  and  twice  a 
thin  thread  of  blue  steel  gleamed  in  the  air,  and  twice 
it  was  buried  to  the  hilt.  But  now  Capell  knelt  upon  the 
villain's  chest,  and  he  struggled  and  struck  in  vain.  A 
gurgling  cry,  a  fearful  straining  and  contortion  of  the 
limbs,  and  he  lay  still.  Capell  rose  slowly,  feebly,  and 
pressed  his  hand  against  his  side;  then  he  tried  to  reach 
his  horse,  but  dropped  upon  his  knees  before  he  could 
get  half-way,  and  among  the  moorland  grass  a  stream 
of  life-blood  trickled  slowly.  He  raised  his  hands  in 
prayer. 

"Be  merciful,  Lord,  to  a  sinner.  Bless  her;  give  him 
faith.     Give  —  give  happiness  to  both." 

He  began  to  rock  to  and  fro,  a  shudder  passed  through 
him,  and  he  fell  forward  on  his  face.  A  cold  wind  blew 
over  the  moors,  and  the  horses  shivered  and  shrank  close 
to  one  another  and  neighed  pitifully.  A  pale  moon  rose 
and  shed  its  light  abroad,  and  shone  upon  the  sleeping 
army  and  on  these  two  men  lying  dead. 

In  Knaresborough  the  sentinel  stood  before  the  door, 
the  trooper  held  the  horses,  and  Cromwell  and  Ralph 
sat  in  silence  by  a  rude  bed  of  straw.  They  held  Oliver's 
hands,  Cromwell  the  right,  Ralph  his  left,  Oliver,  who 
was  conscious,  though  speechless,  having  signified  this 
to  be  his  wish  by  a  turn  of  his  head  and  faint  movement 
of  his  fingers.  Thus  they  waited  —  waited  for  the  end. 
At  intervals  the  dying  man  would  make  desperate  efiforts 

396 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

to  speak,  but  his  lips  seemed  too  stiff  to  shape  the  words. 
At  last,  gazing  into  the  wistful  eyes,  Ralph  read  a  mean- 
ing in  them,  and  laying  his  other  hand  in  Cromwell's, 
whispered:  — 

"  Father! " 

A  smile,  happy  and  content,  lit  up  the  face  on  the  bed, 
and  became  almost  joyous  when  Cromwell  grasped 
Ralph's  hand,  and  in  a  deep  whisper  answered :  — 

"Son!" 

Then  they  sat  in  silence  again,  and  now  moment  by 
moment  the  dying  face  grew  whiter,  the  feeble  hands 
cold  and  flaccid,  the  eyes  dull  and  heavy.  Of  a  sudden 
he  roused,  and  with  a  strength  amazing  in  his  condi- 
tion, brought  both  Cromwell's  hands  and  Ralph's 
together  within  his  own,  grasped  them  strongly,  and 
whispered :  — 

"  Father,  love  him!  Naught" — he  choked  and  fought 
for  breath  — "  naught  must  stand  between  them.  I 
know  —  I  know  " —  his  face  worked  convulsively,  great 
beads  of  perspiration  stood  upon  his  brow,  but  his  will 
conquered  his  weakness  — "  I  know  now  that  it  be  God's 
will." 

He  stopped,  coughing  violently  and  spitting  blood, 
then  lay  quiet  again  and  smiled  upon  them.  All  at 
once  he  turned  his  head  on  the  pillow,  like  a  child  falling 
asleep,  and  murmuring,  "Rachel  —  dearest  —  my  dear- 
est!" closed  his  eyes,  and  his  breath  stopped. 

Silently  then  Ralph  and  Cromwell  rose  and  kissed  him 
on  the  forehead,  bathing  it  with  their  hot  tears.  Then 
Cromwell  said  in  broken  tones:  — 

"'The  Lord  giveth,  and  the  Lord  taketh  away; 
blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.'  Ralph,  there'll  be 
battle  on  the  morrow;  God  knows  the  outcome.  After 
it  is  over,  if  we  be  alive,  come  ye  to  me,  and  we  will 
open  our  minds  and  hearts  to  one  another.  God's  bless- 
ing rest  on  thee,  my  son." 


397 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

THE  sun  was  near  its  setting  after  a  day  of  hail  and 
rain,  with  bursts  of  hot  sunshine  in  between.  The 
wind  had  dropped,  the  thunder  only  growled  sleepily  at 
long  intervals  in  the  distance,  and  though  the  clouds 
were  still  heaped  up  in  dark  masses  to  the  eastward,  they 
rested  on  the  horizon  like  tired  warriors,  spent  with  the 
warfare  of  the  day.  On  the  plain  six  miles  from  York, 
fronting  the  ridge  of  moorland  above  the  village  of  Long 
Marston,  lay  the  Royalist  army.  It  had  been  gathering 
there  since  early  morning,  approaching  the  army  of  the 
Parliament  which  lined  the  ridge,  and  since  four  in  the 
afternoon  the  forces  had  only  been  separated  by  three 
hundred  yards  of  bushy,  marshy  ground;  the  men  on 
either  side  could  recognise  by  uniform  and  standard 
those  with  whom  they  were  to  wrestle  when  the  signal 
came  to  charge. 

It  seemed  to  the  Parliament  cavalry  that  this  would 
never  come.  All  day  the  Ironsides,  under  Cromwell, 
on  the  left  wing,  and  Lord  Fairfax  and  his  Yorkshire- 
men  on  the  right,  stood  facing  the  plain  that  stretched 
towards  York,  watching  the  columns  of  the  enemy 
draw  nearer  and  nearer,  while  their  own  infantry,  which 
had  been  ordered  southwards  some  miles  early  in  the 
day,  under  a  belief  that  Rupert  would  not  risk  a  battle 
after  all,  were  hurriedly  marched  back  again  and  took 
up  their  position  in  the  centre.  Yet  both  armies  stood 
in  hne  of  battle  for  two  hours,  and  no  advance  was  made 
on  either  side.  The  Parliamentarians  were  on  higher 
ground;  but  in  front  of  the  Royalist  lines  was  a  deep 

3Q8 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

broad  ditch  lined  with  their  musketeers  — a  nasty  break- 
water for  charging  cavah-y. 

It  was  nearly  seven  o'clock;  the  rays  of  the  sun,  gleam- 
ing horizontally  athwart  the  plain  between  clouds  of 
inky  blackness,  flashed  upon  the  breast-plates  of 
Rupert's  squadrons  on  the  right  and  Goring's  on  the 
left,  and  lit  up  the  facings  of  Newcastle's  famous  "  white- 
coats  "  in  the  centre,  leaving  the  Parliament  men  dark 
and  threatening  on  the  ridge  above.  And  now,  like  the 
first  flash  of  lightning  and  growl  of  thunder  which 
heralds  the  storm,  from  this  ridge  there  came  the  report 
of  cannon,  and  the  Parliament  line  swung  forward  and 
advanced  at  a  foot  pace  down  the  hill.  They  marched 
two  hundred  yards,  then  halted,  and  then  the  armies 
were  within  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  of  one  another.  A 
pause  like  that  curious  stillness  that  precedes  the  heavy 
patter  of  thunder  rain,  and  then  sharp  and  clear  and 
shrill  rang  out  a  trumpet  call. 

"Praise  ye  God;  praise  ye  the  Lord,"  cried  a  deep 
voice  in  the  van  of  the  Parliament  left  —  Captain  Reuben 
Sweetlove's.  "  Men,  we  lead  the  attack  against  Rupert's 
Life  Guards,  and  Noll  himself  rides  with  us." 

That  was  Reuben's  address  to  his  men,  and  had  he 
been  able  to  pour  out  words  of  burning  eloquence,  they 
would  not  have  served  his  purpose  half  so  well.  Though 
the  Ironsides  were  veterans  worn  with  two  years'  con- 
stant fighting,  and  with  a  discipline  more  hardening  than 
warfare,  when  Cromwell  —  the  man  had  made  them 
what  they  were,  the  friend  of  each,  the  idol  of  them  all  — 
rode  quietly  up  to  lead  the  fighting  line,  a  cry  went  forth 
of  deep  joy  and  exultation.  As  Cromwell  heard  it,  he 
wheeled  round,  and  Ralph,  who  was  nearest  to  him,  saw 
him  flush  deeply  and  his  lips  tremble. 

"  Men,  old  comrades  and  tried  friends,  upon  ye  more 
than  others  will  rest  the  issue  of  the  day.  I  thank  you 
for  your  welcome,  but  I've  naught  to  say.     I've  proved 


399 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

your  courage  and  vour  strength.  May  God  prosper  the 
right.     Fall  in." 

Fifty  yards  of  spongy  ground,  covered  with  whin- 
bushes,  the  ditch,  by  good  fortune,  dry,  with  sloping 
banks,  and  then  the  enemy.  Behind  the  Ironsides  were 
four  other  regiments  of  horse,  and  in  their  rear  the 
reserve,  three  regiments  of  Scottish  bordermen  under 
one  David  Leslie.  And  as  the  cavalry  of  the  left  wing 
swept  down  upon  Rupert,  the  musketeers  and  pikemen 
of  the  centre,  under  Manchester  and  Leven,  advanced  at 
the  double;  and  Fairfax  on  the  right  charged  gallantly 
upon  the  king's  old  horse,  under  Goring. 

Down  the  hill,  across  the  ditch,  not  a  horse  stum- 
bling, rode  the  Ironsides,  and,  with  swords  high  in  air 
and  a  mighty  swing  and  crash,  charged  the  front  ranks 
of  the  Royalist  right  wing,  "  Byron's  horse."  The  Cava- 
liers met  the  charge  bravely  and  well,  but  the  onset  of 
Cromwell's  men  was  irresistible,  and  their  perfect  dis- 
cipline carried  all  before  it.  Vainly  the  royal  troopers 
dashed  themselves  against  the  iron  wall;  on  it  went 
resistlessly,  and  Byron's  horse,  Rupert's  advance  guard, 
gave  way.  But  now  behind  them  there  was  a  sound  as 
of  the  rising  of  the  sea.  A  thousand  horses  at  a  gallop, 
a  thousand  helmets  with  their  tossing  plumes,  a  thou- 
sand broadswords  flashing  in  the  setting  sun,  and 
Rupert's  guards  charged  in. 

The  Ironsides  were  ready.  Above  the  tumult  and  the 
rush  of  troopers,  above  the  Avar-cry  of  the  Cavaliers,  the 
regiment  heard  Cromwell's  order:  — 

"  Close,  men,  close.     God  with  us!" 

Stirrup  to  stirrup,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  they  met  that 
onslaught  which  none  had  ever  stayed  before,  and  then 
was  fighting  such  as  had  never  been  throughout  the 
war. 

The  minutes  pass.  Swords  crash  home  through 
breastplate,  bone,  and  flesh;  horses  reel,  lifted  by  rein 
and   spur,   rear,   and   spring   forward    for   the   counter- 

400 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

stroke.  Their  riders  hack  and  hew,  and  often  clutch  and 
grapple  hand  to  hand  and  tear  one  another  to  the  ground, 
and  struggling  still,  die  beneath  the  plunging  hoofs. 

The  minutes  pass,  and  there  is  no  advantage  yet  for 
either  side.  The  Ironsides  hold  together,  but  Rupert's 
guards  are  better  horsed  and  more  expert  with  the  sword 
and  force  them  backwards.  The  fiery  Prince  is  fighting 
in  the  van,  and  once  Ralph  and  he  cross  swords.  But 
before  they  have  time  to  deal  any  fatal  blow  they  are 
separated  by  the  press  about  them,  and  Ralph  grinds 
his  teeth  and  curses  aloud.  The  thought  of  his  old  vow 
to  Taunton  is  in  his  brain.  He  would  dearly  love  to 
slay  the  nephew  of  the  king. 

The  minutes  pass.  The  Ironsides  are  losing  ground, 
only  a  few  yards,  but  losing.  An  exultant  cry  from  the 
guards,  then  a  lovider  cry,  swelling  to  a  triumphant  yell 
as  one  of  Rupert's  subalterns,  striking  at  Cromwell, 
wounds  him  deeply  in  the  neck.  He  reels,  and  but  for 
Ralph  would  have  fallen  from  his  saddle. 

"My  God!  have  they  kihed  thee,  father?" 

"  Nay,  man,"  with  a  grim  smile,  "  a  stroke  i'  the  flesh, 
a  little  blood.  Lead  thou  the  men;  Whalley  is  dead. 
I'll  ride  to  the  rear  and  bring  up  the  reserve." 

He  bound  a  handkerchief  round  the  wound  and 
wheeled  his  horse,  and  between  him  and  the  Cavaliers 
closed  in  a  line  of  men  which  not  the  hottest  of  the  Life 
Guards  could  pierce. 

Yet  the  line  was  weakening,  bending.  One  more 
rush,  and  Rupert  would  break  through.  Ralph  saw  it, 
and  a  fury  came  upon  him.  Were  his  men,  the  best  in 
all  the  army,  to  be  beaten  back  by  these  Cavaliers?  He 
raised  himself  in  the  stirrups  with  a  look  upon  his  face 
that  his  men  had  never  seen,  and  his  sword  was  like  a 
feather  in  his  hands.  With  one  sweep  he  cut  down  two 
of  the  guards  who  were  pressing  upon  him,  and  then, 
turning  in  his  saddle,  he  cried  out:  — 

"  Men,  lads  of  my  old  troop,  Cromwell's  struck.     Shall 

26  401 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

they  not  pay  for  this?  Then  charge,  for  the  love  of 
God!" 

A  shout  hoarse  and  inarticulate  as  the  growl  of  a 
wounded  lion,  and  then  Ralph  dug  his  spurs  into  his 
horse,  the  maddened  beast  sprang  forward,  and  behind 
him  there  came  three  score  troopers,  bursting  like  a 
thunderbolt  upon  the  exultant  Cavaliers,  and  fighting 
as  men  possessed.  The  excitement  spread  through  the 
regiment.  Blows  were  rained  upon  them  from  the  Life 
Guards'  heavy  swords,  but  they  gave  back  two  for  one. 
In  vain  the  Prince  called  upon  his  men  to  "  drive  those 
dogs  to  hell."  They  gained  ground  fast,  the  advance  of 
the  guards  was  stayed,  and  with  one  mighty  heave  and 
strain  their  line  was  broken,  and  the  famous  regiment 
rent  in  twain.  But  now  beyond  them  two  more  regi- 
ments were  forming  for  the  charge,  Grandison's  reserve. 
The  wearied  Ironsides  saw  it  and  grimly  closed  their 
ranks  once  more;  but  ere  they  met  them  there  came  the 
glad  sound  of  squadrons  advancing  from  the  right,  and 
down  at  a  swinging  gallop  came  Leslie  and  his  Scots. 
It  was  just  in  time. 

The  minutes  pass,  but  now  the  scene  has  changed. 

Backwards  to  right,  to  left,  the  scattered  Royalists 
reel  beneath  the  stroke.  "  God  and  the  king!  "  grows 
faint;  "  God  with  us!"  rends  the  air.  Soon  it  became  a 
rout,  and  northwards  and  eastwards  the  broken  squad- 
rons fled  for  their  lives.  A  short  and  fierce  pursuit,  and 
then  the  trumpet  sounded  the  recall. 

One  struggle  was  now  over;  a  good  breathing  space 
was  gained.  The  Ironsides  returned  slowly  and  unwil- 
lingly. They  long  to  do  unto  these  haughty  Cavaliers 
what  Rupert  has  so  often  done  to  others:  hack  and  slay 
until  hardly  one  remained  alive.  But  the  trumpet  called 
them,  and  though  revenge  was  sweet,  discipline  came 
first.  So  back  they  came,  and  fell  quietly  into  rank; 
then  cheered  as  through  the  wreaths  of  cannon  smoke 
which  hid  the  battle  of  the  centre  and  right  wing  three 

402 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

horsemen  galloped  up:  Cromwell,  Manchester,  and  Sir 
Thomas  Fairfax. 

Cromwell,  though  very  pale,  was  himself  again,  his 
mien  erect,  his  voice  strong  and  decisive,  his  eyes  roving 
round  the  field  and  seizing  every  point.  Manchester 
looked  dazed  and  half  stunned;  Fairfax  was  badly 
wounded  in  the  face.  Not  a  man  who  saw  the  leaders 
but  knew  that,  be  their  proper  rank  what  it  might, 
Cromwell  was  commanding  now. 

"Our  right  wing  hath  given  way,"  he  said  to  Ralph; 
"  our  centre  be  mostly  driven  from  the  field,  Lord  Fair- 
fax and  Lord  Leven  fled.  Ye  have  the  men  in  hand? 
Good.  Then  we  make  eastwards.  Close  there  to  the 
left.     Steady  at  the  trot!" 

Across  the  moor  they  rode  from  west  to  east,  towards 
York,  over  the  ground  where  but  an  hour  ago  had  been 
the  Royalists'  centre,  which  now  was  well  in  the  heart 
of  the  Parliamentary  position,  carrying  all  before  it. 
The  moor  was  a  mass  of  churned  filth,  slippery  with 
blood,  cumbered  with  bodies  of  dead  and  dying  men, 
with  artillery  waggons,  and  the  guns  from  which  the 
gunners  fled  as  the  mass  of  horsemen  swept  upon  them, 
solid  squares  of  steel  and  iron.  Past  them  the  Ironsides 
rode  without  a  glance  to  right  or  left,  past  stragglers, 
who  had  fallen  out  of  rank,  some  from  fear,  some  to 
plunder  helpless  comrades,  on  to  where  the  battle  is 
raging  hottest,  where  Newcastle's  white-coats  are  driving 
all  before  them.  Now  they  are  abreast  of  the  position, 
and  every  trooper  tightens  rein,  expecting  to  hear  the 
order  come  to  wheel  and  prepare  to  charge.  But  no 
order  comes.  Cromwell  seems  unconscious  of  the 
death-struggle  that  goes  so  bitterly  against  his  friends. 
The  men  are  amazed,  and  Ralph,  unable  to  contain 
himself,  cries  out:  — 

"Shall  we  not  strike  them,  sir?  Our  foot  seem  in  a 
parlous  state." 

"  Hold  thy  peace,"  was  the  stern  rejoinder.     "  Thou 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

knowest  naught.  Forward,  I  say,  forward!  There  be 
other  work  to  do." 

Forward  they  went,  perplexed,  but  confident;  Crom- 
well leading,  with  stern  and  quiet  face,  the  face  of  the 
man  who  knczv. 

Most  puzzled  of  all  was  Ralph;  then,  of  a  sudden,  the 
truth  flashed  across  him.  Goring,  with  the  cavalry  of 
the  left  wing  which  had  crushed  Fairfax  —  he  it  is  whom 
Cromwell  seeks,  knowing  that  should  the  "  king's  old 
horse  "  return  while  he  was  charging  the  white-coats  he 
would  be  caught  between  two  fires.  And  now,  in  the 
gathering  gloom,  they  see  horsemen  approaching  them, 
a  large  body  of  men  riding  fast.  At  sight  of  the  Iron- 
sides rapidly  forming  for  the  charge,  these  Cavaliers 
pause  and  hesitate.  They  have  not  expected  this;  they 
are  taken  by  surprise.  In  vain  do  their  leaders,  Lucas, 
Urry,  and  Goring  himself,  tear  up  and  down  the  ranks, 
shouting,  cursing,  imploring  them  to  close.  They 
advance  readily  enough  to  fight,  for  they  are  brave  men, 
but  their  lines  are  ill-dressed,  the  squadrons  in  disorder. 
Then  from  the  Parliamentary  ranks  come  the  words  of 
command,  and  the  Ironsides  sweep  upon  them,  every 
horse  in  hand,  ever}'  squadron  in  its  place. 

"Charge!" 

They  shout  no  battle-cry;  they  keep  their  breath  for 
blows.  A  fierce,  mad  rush  of  Cavaliers,  a  furious  pound- 
ing hand  to  hand,  and  the  "  king's  old  horse  "  are  hurled 
backwards,  and  thrown  into  irretrievable  confusion.  A 
panic  quickly  follows,  and  then  away  they  go,  pursued 
by  the  Ironsides,  across  the  moor,  over  Atterwick  Dyke, 
never  drav/ing  rein  until  they  reach  the  gates  of  York. 
Meantimes  the  Ironsides  rally,  and  now  the  white-coats, 
which  three  Scotch  regiments  still  hold  at  bay,  feel  the 
weight  of  Cromwell's  charge  on  flank  and  rear,  and  by 
ten  of  the  clock,  the  battle  of  Marston  Moor  v/as  won. 


404 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

THE  day  after  the  battle.  There  had  been  a  council 
of  war  at  Cromwell's  quarters,  but  it  was  over,  and 
Ralph,  appointed  that  day  colonel  of  the  regiment,  stood 
before  his  commander  leaning  on  his  sword. 

"  Thou  askest  much,  too  much,"  Cromwell  was  saying, 
with  a  curious  hesitancy  and  uneasiness  of  tone.  "  Yet 
I  say  not  that  I'll  deny  thee.  Nay,  go  if  thou  wilt,  but 
be  not  too  long  away.  I  can't  do  without  thee,  Ralph; 
there  be  too  much  on  our  hands." 

"  I  will  wait  for  a  better  opportunity,"  Ralph  answered. 
"■  Think  no  more  of  the  matter." 

Cromwell  began  to  pace  the  room. 

"  If  'twould  do  thee  a  service,  I'd  insist  upon  it.  I 
desire  nothing  but  thy  welfare." 

"  Your  pardon,  sir,"  was  the  blunt  rejoinder;  "  that  be 
not  the  truth." 

"  I  say  thy  welfare,"  Cromwell  repeated,  raising  his 
voice,  "to  see  her  whom  you  love,  but  may  never 
possess " 

"  Never?  " 

They  faced  one  another,  Cromwell  stern,  yet  troubled, 
Ralph  dark  and  passionate. 

"  Son,"  Cromwell  said,  with  an  infinite  sadness  in  his 
voice,  "  be  sure  that  this  denial  of  what  thy  soul  craveth 
for  be  bitter  to  me,  nigh  as  bitter  as  it  is  to  thee.  Indeed, 
since  the  death  of  our  dear  lad,  it  hath  weighed  upon  my 
heart  like  lead.  I  cannot  rid  me  of  it.  Every  moment 
that  I  am  at  leisure  I  do  pray  to  God  to  guide  me,  but 
the  way  is  dark.  I  am  as  a  child  wandering  in  a  wilder- 
ness, that  knoweth  not  which  way  to  turn,  and  so  goeth 

40"; 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

round  and  round  in  a  weary  circle.  I  love  thee,  Ralph; 
I  love  thee  so  that  even  thine  unbelief  would  not  cause 
me  now  to  withhold  my  consent  to  thy  union  with 
Rachel;  but  I  have  sworn  to  Hepworth  that  while  thou 
boldest  thy  present  heresy  I'd  keep  thee  separate  from 
her.  I  took  this  oath  in  God's  presence,  my  hand  upon 
His  holy  book,     Oliver  knew  not  this." 

Ralph  drew  a  long,  slow  breath,  and  his  head  drooped. 
When  he  raised  it  his  face  was  grey,  as  if  ten  years  had 
passed  over  it. 

"  Then,  indeed,  sir,  we  may  say  farewell  to  all  hope  of 
happiness.  I  knew  not  this  either.  We  have  determined 
that  against  your  wish  we'll  never  marry.  I  will  not 
take  more  of  your  leisure,"  moving  towards  the  door; 
"I  must  write  to  her;  you  shall  read  the  letter.  My 
darling,  my  poor  darling!  " 

His  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper,  but  Cromwell  caught 
the  words.  Ralph  went  to  the  door,  and  then  looked 
back.  He  longed  for  a  sign  of  sympathy  and  feeling, 
but  Cromwell's  face,  turned  partly  away  from  him,  was 
stern  and  inflexible. 

"  Be  this  religion?"  Ralph  muttered  with  a  sudden  bit- 
terness. Then  standing  erect,  he  said,  "  May  God  have 
mercy,  father,  upon  us  both." 

He  was  passing  out,  when  Cromwell  beckoned  to  him. 

"Hither,  I  say,  hither!"  the  words  uttered  in  a  low, 
strained  voice. 

Ralph  came  back  wondering;  Cromwell's  mouth  was 
set  like  steel,  the  whole  face  expressive  of  the  sternest 
resolution,  yet  in  his  eyes  there  was  a  curious  light. 

"  Give  me  thy  hand,  and  look  into  my  face.  So!  Aye, 
indeed,  thou  art  like  him.  Thou  art  what  he  might  have 
been;  when  first  I  saw  thee  I  said  so:  thou  hast  proved  it 
since.  I  mean  not  Oliver,  but  Robert,  whom  thou  never 
saw,  the  dearest  of  all  —  of  all.  He  died  before  his  man- 
hood came.  May  thou  never  know  the  bitterness  of 
losing  thy  firstborn.     I  reproached  God  for  it,  but  He 

406 


CROMWELL'S  OWN 

was  merciful  unto  me  and  sent  thee.  While  thou  wast 
speaking-  my  mind  went  back  over  the  two  years  that  we 
have  been  together.  Boy,  thou  hast  thy  faults  —  God  be 
thanked  for  it,  I'd  be  no  fit  companion  for  thee  else  —  but 
thou  hast  been  faithful,  truthful,  with  a  courage  few 
possess.  Why  hast  thou  given  me  such  service?  I  have 
been  hard  to  thee  always  and  unjust,  yet  never  hast  thou 
failed  me,  not  even  when,  in  my  blindness,  I'd  have  cut 
thee  from  my  side.  Why?  Yet  answer  not,"  holding  up 
his  hand,  "  I  know  the  reason :  'tis  the  power  of  loving 
that  is  in  thee,  that  is  it;  and  when  that  be  in  a  man  —  I 
say  a  man  —  then  doth  he  become  a  true  disciple  of  our 
Lord,  who  died  for  love  of  men.  Thou  art  one  whom  He 
would  have  loved.  I  say  thou  art!  "  with  a  sudden  change 
of  tone,  as  if  he  had  been  contradicted,  "  and  being  such, 
be  worthy  of  the  best.  Lad,  I  love  thee  very  dear,  and 
as  thou  turned  away  in  thy  deep  despair  a  whisper 
came  —  verily  it  came  from  heaven  —  that  were  I  worthy 
of  the  love  which  thou  hast  given  me  I  should  allow 
naught  to  stand  'tween  thy  happiness  and  hers.  I  swore 
an  oath  once,  but  it  was  in  ignorance,  in  blindness.  I 
deplore  thine  unbelief,  but,  by  the  God  that  made  me, 
Ralph,  thou  art  a  better  man  than  I.  So  thou  shalt  go 
home  to-morrow,  and  take  my  love  and  greetings  to 
Rachel,  and  a  letter  to  Hepworth.  Beshrew  me, 
Ralph,  that  man  loveth  thee  now  full  well,  yet  he  will 
dispute  us  to  the  last.  Let  him  do  his  worst.  I  have 
ne'er  failed  yet  to  find  a  means  to  compass  what  my  con- 
science saith  is  right,  so  have  no  fears.  I  have  found 
guidance.  The  Lord  Himself  hath  spoken,  and  my 
mind's  at  rest.  '  Those  whom  God  hath  joined  let  no 
mian  put  asunder.'    Amen,  amen." 


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